


Deciding Dreams, Determining Fate

by writingtheblues



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24626425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtheblues/pseuds/writingtheblues
Summary: "I go to death knowing I failed the woman I loved; she exists only in my memory now."Voldemort has commanded his most faithful servant to murder a prominent fighter for the Light: Minerva McGonagall. Bellatrix faces her task during the Battle of Hogwarts, kidnapping Minerva to fulfil her duty.Instead, she finds herself torn between who she is and who she might have been...
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Minerva McGonagall, Bellatrix Lestrange & Minerva McGonagall
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I had this idea years ago, and wrote the first couple of chapters in 2011. I've since updated these and continued the story, and I should say here that there is a Trigger Warning for some of the chapters that involve abuse/ mental manipulation. Later chapters also follow post-trauma rehabilitation.

Flashes of deadly green light flew past Minerva as she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. The school's defences were broken; Death Eaters flooded the castle and the battle had begun – yet it was all Minerva could do to concentrate on anything but whether or not she would see _her_ again. Steeling herself, she clutched her wand tightly, firing curses towards the enemy in order to save the students they were battling. Secretly, she held a great affection towards all of the Hogwarts students, both past and present, but for many years she had found it very difficult to show.

There was only one woman to blame for that, but she couldn't let herself think the name – she knew that if she did, her defences would crumble and she would be forced to seek her out in the masses of bodies both alive and dead. Minerva couldn't help it; after everything that monster had done, she still prayed that she hadn't joined the magnitude of lifeless corpses littering the castle grounds.

And then she heard it. That laugh, that terrible cackle that only one person in the entire universe could emit.

_Bella…_

Minerva whipped around, eyes searching frantically for a mass of curly black hair, black eyes, anything – and there she was. After all this time. The women froze, staring at each other, talented enough to rid themselves of any competition without having to break their gaze. For a second, they were completely alone. Minerva was struck by the need to discover for certain, finally, whether the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange still had remnants of Bella Black, the girl she had cherished so dearly. The young woman who still appeared in her dreams every night.

Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't help herself when the idea struck her. She moved forward so suddenly that even Minerva couldn't move quickly enough to stop what was about to happen. They both heard the screaming as Bellatrix wrapped an arm easily around Minerva's neck from behind, the point of a blade gently resting on her pulse point, smiling as Minerva shuddered. Before any of the surrounding fighters could do anything to aid either witch, Bellatrix disapparated them both, thankful the bonds of Hogwarts were broken now.

Seconds later, they landed forcefully in a place no one would ever consider to look for them. Minerva internally cursed herself in her fear; if only…

_If only she hadn't taken the girl back to her home all those years ago._

_If only she hadn't turned into the dangerous lunatic standing before her._

With the practiced ease of a Dark soldier, Bellatrix removed Minerva's wand from her grasp and threw it across her bedroom.

"Bella… no, please don't do this…" Minerva choked out, bracing herself for the torture she was sure to come.

"My name is Bellatrix," she hissed, casting a spell to bind the Professors wrists behind her back and forcing her to her knees. Minerva looked up at her, resolutely meeting her eyes. She had wondered if this day would come, knowing in her heart it would - the day her once true love would watch the life leave her eyes. "And I have to do this." Her wild eyes darkened as she pointed her wand directly into her former Professor's face.

"That's not how I think of you; it never has been," Minerva stated. She was not begging, it wasn't in her nature. She had noted instantly that Bellatrix had used the words "have to".

"Well it won't be long until you're not thinking of anything, _Professor_ ," she snarled the last word, her once lovely features contorted.

"You don't have to do this, Bella. There is always another option." Minerva spoke again, not moving her eyes away from the dark irises that stared down at her unflinchingly.

"Quiet, half-blood," she hissed back.

"Why here, Bella?" Minerva cut her off, not interested in the supposed insults. She wanted answers, and even here on her knees, she would get them. "Why my home? The place we came so many times in secret, to be together. Have you forgotten?"

Bellatrix's wand lowered a fraction of an inch, but it was still pointed at the Professor. Still aimed to kill.

"This was the last place anyone would think to look for you, Minerva. Ironic, really, isn't it? So few people will even know where your family home is, and they certainly won't expect _me_ to bring you here to finish you. I'm sure I am right in thinking you never told a soul about us?" Bellatrix was sneering at her, but Minerva's resolve strengthened as she considered the witch above her.

"No, Bella, I never spoke of our relationship," she said carefully. "There were a number of reasons behind my decision to keep you my secret. I am sure you would never think to guess all of them."

The Death Eater cackled once more, the terrible sound filling Minerva's long unused bedroom. She had not visited the place even once since Hogwarts had fallen to Voldemort, too afraid to leave the students even though she could barely protect them from harm.

"Your reasons are obvious, Minerva, with that sickly feeling of _shame_ still topping the list as it always did. First it was because I was younger than you, and your lowly student, but now… well," she smirked. "I imagine you look at me much like the rest of your pathetic little Order does, with disgust and _fear_. You would never want the world to know about your past with me, it would taint your image. What would they all think, Minerva?" She mock gasped in faux-shame, twirling her wand once more so Minerva was forced to stand. Bellatrix leaned close to her ear to whisper in it. "What would they say about you, knowing that this mouth that speaks words of inspiration to the Light had also made fierce love to the most faithful servant of the Dark Lord?"

"As far as I recall, the Dark Lord's most faithful servant was always so eager to reciprocate," Minerva bit back, the side of her face now pressing into Bellatrix's own. The Death Eater took a step backwards at this, pushing her dark curls away from her face, her wand now directed squarely at Minerva's chest.

"As for any other reasons," Bellatrix spat, "What does it matter? It means only that I can kill you here and return to the battle to aid my Master."

"So do it, then, Bella. I'm surprised we're still stood here. It's almost as though this call to the past is stopping you," Minerva spoke quietly still, but clearly. There was no missing the meaning behind her words. A moment passed between them but neither witch moved, and it was Minerva who spoke again.

"My reasons may have included shame, I admit, Bella. However, not in the way you describe." Bellatrix didn't reply, still watching Minerva carefully, her wand never wavering from its target. "I was ashamed that I failed the only woman I have ever loved."

A flash of confusion swept over Bellatrix's face, so changed from when she had been Bella Black. _Minerva's Bella_.

"Failed me? As an educator, no. I learned as much as you could offer, considering your limited sensibilities," she sneered the last words. "Failed as a lover? It was I who abandoned you to become who I was born to be. You were nothing but a poor decision, rectified with a lifetime of service to our rightful leader." Her eyes glazed slightly as she spoke.

"And yet, I am still alive," Minerva muttered, her eyes moving quickly to Bellatrix's wand and back to her face. She spoke again, her voice clear once more. "No, Bella. I failed to keep you safe, knowing as I did what was happening to you in that house with your parents," Minerva's bitterness of the situation spilled into her words, "I knew what your father was doing, how he tortured you. How he twisted your mind and had forced you to do things the young woman I loved would never have done willingly." She shook her head, looking tired suddenly. "I should have took you away from that dreadful place. I could have saved you from what you've become. I could have saved myself." Minerva's eyes fell to the floor and she managed to stand awkwardly, hands still tied. She took several slow steps away from Bellatrix, sinking heavily to the bed in the middle of the room.

"I didn't need _saving_ ," Bellatrix hissed. "The only reason you regret not acting sooner is that you might have saved yourself from dying at my hands." Her own words seemed to spur her into action and she stepped forwards to stand over Minerva once more. Her wand tip pressed gently into Minerva's cheek, Bellatrix reached her other hand to her once beloved's chin and lifted it to gaze into her eyes. She was shocked to see a single tear track its way down Minerva's face, and found herself motionless as it touched her hand. It was followed by another.

"I'm sorry, Bella. Sorry for everything, everything…" Minerva's voice shook. "I loved her so dearly. Bella Black, the girl who changed me so very much, I don't think I ever stopped loving her. I go to death knowing I failed her, that she exists only in my memory now." Her back straightened, her eyes closed, Minerva McGonagall accepted her fate with the face of the woman she had held in her heart for decades clear in her mind.

The wand tip left her cheek, but still she remained stoic, waiting for the final curse. It did not come.

Bellatrix dropped her wand arm to her side, staring at the other woman's face. She had aged since they had last met, fine lines speckled around her emerald green eyes, a fact made more prominent by the dust that had settled in her dark hair. Something made her raise her wand and remove that dust and debris until the raven black hair shone just as she remembered. Something made her remove the clasp to allow it to tumble freely, just as she remembered. The same something made her jerk her wand, almost involuntarily. The bonds around Minerva's wrists vanished.

"You don't recognise me anymore, do you, Minerva?" The words slipped from her lips before she had consciously thought them. She leaned towards her former professor, noting now with displeasure how the woman flinched from her in fear. Gently, slowly, she reached to stroke her free hand through the dark hair. It had always been one of her favourite assets of Minerva's, something the Professor obviously remembered too. Why else would she have lost some of the fear in her eyes, replaced with something deeper… Something that dredged up welcome memories inside Bellatrix.

"I lie awake at night, trying so hard not to think of you." Minerva whispered, the words wrenched from her almost against her will. _It has been so very long…_ "Yet, I discovered a long time ago that, despite my best efforts, a person can't decide what they dream." The Professor closed her eyes once more and breathed in deeply as Bellatrix leaned closer still and brushed her lips against Minerva's. It was as though the Death Eater suddenly had no control over her actions.

"What do you think of, Minerva?" Bellatrix whispered. "When you think about me, do you remember me as I was when I was yours? Or do you simply see what stood before you in the battle; a treacherous personification of everything wrong with the world?"

Minerva smiled sadly. "Both, always both. Because they are the same. My Bella, my sweet Bella is still somewhere inside the woman who accomplishes such acts of pure evil. Had you chosen to… stay with me," her voice broke, just a little, "perhaps my Bella would have overcome, recovered from the evil she'd had inflicted on her heart and soul from a young age."

"You know I had to leave. I had no choice." Bellatrix closed her eyes and turned away from Minerva, facing the wall. At her words, Minerva had felt a sudden anger surge within her, one that had often surprised her. It had flared in the past when she thought of what Bella had become after she had given up on everything they had fought so hard to have, and here it was again.

"There is _always_ a choice, Bella Black." She hissed again.

Bella whipped around at the use of the name she was so unused to hearing, eyes wide. Quickly, she positioned herself on top of Minerva, now forced to lie on her back as Bella grabbed her wrists and thrust them upwards.

" _What_ did you call me?"

With her arms pinned above her head and Bellatrix atop her legs, Minerva had nothing but her words to control this situation.

"I believe you heard me, or you would not have had quite such a reaction. Tell me, does being on top of me turn you on as much as it used to, or is this simply a technique you use to frighten people nowadays?"

Her voice was icy in a stark contrast to the fire that burned in her eyes; Minerva McGonagall was, ironically, more in control of the situation now, despite her position. She was revealing the emotions and reactions Bellatrix Lestrange thought she had destroyed, or at the very least _buried_ so easily. It all stemmed from the fact that Minerva had known Bella Black, a somewhat sweet girl who endured such terrible trauma and substantial "persuasion" to become who she was today. With a few well-chosen words, Minerva McGonagall was reducing the less than human Bellatrix Lestrange to become _Bella_. Her Bella. She was torn as to whether or not she should let that happen, unused to allowing her well-built barriers crumble even slightly. These were the defences that saved her from becoming affected by the atrocities she saw and committed on a daily basis, the mental obstruction which allowed her to ignore any memories of the witch currently underneath her.

"You are only here, _Professor_ , because I willed it so. No one will ever suspect that I would bring you to your own home…" Bellatrix became suddenly sneering in an attempt to cover her internal battle, remembering suddenly that she did have a task. Whether or not she could complete it was another matter entirely.

"And what is it you brought me here to do, Bella? Torture me? Cause me undeniable pain until I harken into madness before you finally kill me? Because I can see in your eyes that there's something else you would rather be doing to me, isn't there? I can see the true heart beneath all of _this._ " She gestured minimally, still trapped beneath the younger witch.

"Don't you _dare._ I don't answer simply to Bella anymore, and certainly not to Black. That is not who I am, and you are not _here_ so we can start some sordid affair again – you are _here_ because the Dark Lord wants you dead. It's my mission." She paused, and Minerva became aware of a raging battle behind her lover's eyes; one that Bellatrix herself wasn't particularly aware of. Bella Black was fighting it out with Bellatrix Lestrange, the former brought back to life by simply seeing her true love in front of her once again.

Minerva took advantage of Bellatrix's moment of weakness and shifted underneath her, wrists escaping the grasp of a Death Eater to rip open her lover's corset in a manner she hadn't acted in for so long, yet remembered so vividly. She could recall every reaction Bella had ever had during their time spent here, in this bed, and she wanted to see what had changed about her.

_It seems Bella can remember too,_ Minerva thought as she ran her fingers over soft skin. _S_ he was brought out of these thoughts at the same time as Bellatrix, who had been caught up in the gentle touch of a lover for the first time in years.

Bellatrix forced herself away from the hands she so badly wanted to touch her and retrieved her wand; desperately trying to recall the mission she had been appointed.

She pointed her weapon at Minerva, the feel of her wand – the cause of so much devastation – forcing Bella Black deep inside of her. A sick, twisted smile spread across her face.

_"Bellatrix." She shivered as her name left the Dark Lord's lips, facing him once again. He had just completed a meeting with all of his marked Death Eaters, assigning stronger members of the Order of the Phoenix to be murdered strategically by those who he considered worthy enough for such a task. Everyone had been mildly surprised when Bellatrix had not been mentioned, but of course, these thoughts were kept as fleeting, hidden under practiced Occlumency._

_"My Lord?" She inquired when he had simply watched her until the room was completely empty and silent. "You require my services?"_

_"Indeed. There is one more member of the Order who will need to be taken care of as the war rages around them. And it must be you who kills her, do you understand me?"_

_Bellatrix nodded furiously, willing to do whatever her Master wished, wondering who it was._

_"Minerva McGonagall."_

_Her eyes widened for a second, but she covered her reaction instantly._

_"Consider it done, my Lord." She hissed, turning on her heel and leaving Voldemort alone, Nagini curled up next to him._

_What Bellatrix did not hear, was Voldemort muttering to Nagini the reason_ _why_ _it had to be Bellatrix who murdered Minerva McGonagall. If she had, Bella Black might have fought harder against Bellatrix Lestrange._


	2. Chapter 2

"Put the wand down, Bella."

Minerva had noticed, in the short time she had been held captive by her former student and former lover, that the now infamous Bellatrix was mentally fluctuating between being the girl she loved and the woman she and so many others were frightened of. The woman so many despised, yet Minerva still couldn't bring herself to hate Bellatrix in any way, because she _knew_ that Bella Black, the girl who had so easily got under her skin while still her student, was in there somewhere.

She thought she knew what had happened to her that had caused this second, destructive personality to take over the young woman she had known, and the thought sickened her. Her father had tortured her, using the Cruciatus Curse often as a tool to control. Bella was taught, ruthlessly, that Muggles and the magic folk who mated with them were disgusting creatures, to be abhorred. If she questioned this, she was punished. Her sisters, however, seemed to escape the worst of this life. Andromeda was quick enough to leave while the attentions were still focused on Bellatrix, and clever enough to know when to keep her mouth shut. Narcissa was quiet, so slim and pale she was almost unnoticed in the house. She showed enough loyalty to her father to remain unnoticed, already dating Lucius Malfoy from her younger school years.

"Do you remember, Bella, when you confessed your feelings to me while you were still at school? How easy it was for you to tell me?" Minerva moved closer to Bellatrix, avoiding the wand still brandished in front of her. "You deduced that I felt the same in an instant, and you were so insistent that we could be together even in those last months you were my student; albeit in secret," she moved closer still, determined not to show her fear to Bellatrix, "It was something I would never have been suspected of doing, having an illicit affair with a student, or so you told me. You said we could always be together, because you loved me. If any of that was a lie, you would have killed me already," Minerva finished, her tone soft yet confident.

And with that Bellatrix disappeared for long enough that Minerva leaned in towards _her Bella_ with a smile, pressing her lips to the woman's own blood red lips. When she felt Bella relax slightly into her kiss, she wrapped her arms around her waist tightly, holding her close as though it was days ago that they had last been together, instead of decades.

Somewhere inside the Professor, who had spent the long years pushing the memory of her connection with Bellatrix deeper into her subconscious, her own battle raged, just as it had all those years before. Bella had been her student, sixteen years younger than her, a bright and troubled witch who had trusted her as a mentor for her first five years at school. A Slytherin with few friends, Bella had often engaged her teacher in conversation between classes, with topics usually focusing on magic that would prove to be beyond the capabilities of others her age. Other than her sister, Narcissa, Minerva had noticed she spoke to few others, and so made a point to look out for the young girl whenever she could. Over the first five years of her time at Hogwarts, Bella Black altered in many ways. Now nearing sixteen, she was a striking girl, and a particularly clever one at that. Even then, she knew how to manipulate to get what she wanted, and never seemed to end up in detention even when the crimes committed positively reeked of the eldest Black child. Minerva was not the only one of the teachers who had noticed this, but she was certainly the only one to turn something of a blind eye towards any bad behaviour. This in itself was unusual; even in her younger days of teaching, Professor M McGonagall did not suffer fools nor rule breakers.

Arms still wrapped around the woman from whom so many would flee in terror, Minerva carefully manoeuvred them to sit next to each other on the edge of her bed. Tentatively, she reached a still shaking hand to Bellatrix's face and stroked the stubborn curls out of her eyes.

"It was your sixth year that I noticed a change in our relationship," she began. There was something in her mind telling her to keep talking. Minerva's goal was to make Bellatrix remember who she had been once. _Perhaps it was who she could be again._ "You spent an increased amount of time in my office, sometimes we would even work companionably there together. It became unusual; something I felt I could not explain were I to be questioned by any other faculty member. It was also something I had no desire to stop. In my mind, we were doing nothing wrong. There was nothing untoward happening; I was simply caring for a student in a professional way."

Bellatrix had not moved from her side while she spoke, nor had she met her eyes yet. She simply sat, her wand still clutched in her left hand, motionless. Should she choose to strike, Minerva had no chance of survival. And so, she continued to speak.

"But, almost without my realising the passing of time, you were sixteen. Nearing adulthood with each passing day, and as much as I didn't want to notice how your gaze was becoming more intense, I did. I noticed how you would no longer arrive at my office during the day time when you didn't have classes, you would appear after dinner no longer in your school clothes, but in dresses. I told myself there was nothing inappropriate happening. I told myself it was innocent." Minerva sighed deeply. "I knew, of course, that it was not. Why, then, did I not stop it? It's something I've asked myself every single time I have seen your name in the paper under some terrible headline. The answer is simple; I didn't want to. I was as infatuated with you as you appeared to be with me."

Bellatrix stood quickly and it took every ounce of Minerva's self control not to flinch. Instead of turning her wand on the Professor once more, however, she paced the floor slowly, turning the weapon in her fingers absent-mindedly.

"I knew I had to bide my time before I could really try anything with you," she said, her tone lighter and more thoughtful than it had been in years. "I knew I would have to be of age, at the very least, before you would consider me. But I also knew I would have you eventually, Minerva."

"I wish I could say you were wrong," Minerva half-laughed, self depreciatingly. "I suppose I should at least be thankful that you waited until your final year. The real torment was short lived."

"What torment was that, Minerva?" Bellatrix drawled the words out in an almost seductive fashion, and it did not go unnoticed.

"The torment of the Professor who falls in love with her student," Minerva sighed. "A student who still had months left in the school. How reckless I was to be so tempted by you that I allowed that to happen."

"I was of age." Bellatrix smirked, still somehow jubilant over her successful seduction of her Professor after all these years.

"I know that, Bella, believe me, I recall the very moment you turned seventeen." Surprised at herself, Minerva felt her face flush with colour at the memory.

"You never could believe the things I said to you that night, could you Minerva?" Bellatrix allowed herself a grin as she lost herself to her recollection.

_The Christmas holidays had finally arrived, and the celebrations would last all night. Students littered the grounds of Hogwarts after the party in the Great Hall, the eldest amongst them clutching disguised bottles of Firewhiskey. In the Slytherin common room, Bella Black walked through masses of dancing couples, many of them kissing passionately; something which only increased the determined fire coursing through her as she left the dungeons. She had her cloak wrapped tightly around her to hide what little she was wearing underneath, silently thanking whatever the cause for her confidence was. Clutching the bottle of Firewhiskey she had picked up along the way, she took a swig from it just before she arrived at her destination, at which she knocked furiously. The door swung open faster than she had anticipated, revealing an elegantly attired Minerva McGonagall. The alcohol Bella had consumed stopped the part of her brain which would normally have some decorum, and so Bella's eyes roved over her Professor's body, one which was outlined so perfectly by the velvet emerald dress she wore. Her hair fell in dark waves down her back; she had clearly just let it loose from her usual bun, and her green eyes were outlined beautifully._

" _Bella?" The voice snapped the girl out of her daze._

" _May I come in?" she hesitated, just enough to allow Minerva to step backwards and granted her entrance. Once inside, she indicated a seat next to her on a small sofa, not noticing her student's smile. They would be so close._

_She sat down with grace, careful to keep her robe pulled around her for now, and offered the bottle of Firewhiskey to Minerva, who took it looking bemused._

" _You wouldn't rather be outside drinking with your friends?"_

" _Actually, this is a much better way to spend the night, Professor."_

_"_ _I see," Minerva poured them both a drink before sitting next to her student._

" _But I didn't ask, Minerva, if you plan to go out tonight? I'm not ruining anything?"_

_If Minerva had disliked the use of her first name, she didn't show it. She merely blinked once, clearly surprised, then sipped her drink and replied as though to a friend._

" _Of course not Bella, I had just returned from a staff outing when you knocked quite so ferociously on my door."_

_Bella smiled, blushing at the slight reprimand._

" _I was in a hurry to get away from everyone. And I… was hoping we could share a drink together. In celebration, you know, of the end of term. Although for me, I'm celebrating more than that, I suppose."_

" _Oh? And what's that, Bella?" Minerva looked up at her expectantly as she poured their drinks._

" _When the clock strikes midnight, I'm officially an adult." Bella smiled._

_"_ _Goodness. Seventeen at midnight," Minerva smiled. "Well you have under an hour of being a sixteen year old girl left, soon to be a woman. Are you sure this is where you want to be? I'm delighted you're here, of course, but surely a fiery girl like yourself should be outside, dancing… with boys…" Minerva coughed, her expression having changed rather radically as she pictured what she had just suggested. Somehow, the thought didn't appear pleasing to her._

" _Well, for one thing, I don't dance in public. And for another, should I be dancing with a partner, it would not be a boy." Bella sneered out the last word, making Minerva laugh lightly before drinking her whiskey in one gulp._

" _Those are two things we have in common then, Bella."_

_Their eyes met as Bella finished her drink, too._

" _In which case…" Bella flicked her wand at the music centre in the corner, and a seductively slow song poured out of it. The music surrounded them, and Minerva couldn't help but take the hand offered in front of her, placing the other on Bella's shoulder as the girl held her waist. They moved together slowly, pressed tightly against each other. Feeling the heat radiating from Bella, Minerva had to wonder why the girl still had her cloak on, it was obviously an unnecessary formality considering Bella was calling her Minerva and dancing with her quite so… sensually._

_Without asking, Minerva tugged at the ties at Bella's throat, causing the cloak to loosen enough to give a view of what lay underneath. Bella was wearing a black corset, giving Minerva a view of plenty of her breasts, and a small black skirt which just grazed the top of… suspenders. The darkness contrasted so beautifully with her pale skin, showed so much of her curves… Minerva gulped._

" _Bella!"_

" _Yes, Minerva?" Her tone was too innocent, her hands now wrapped around her waist, pulling her too close for a student… but she couldn't help but relax into the embrace, even when Bella's cloak fell to the floor._

" _Should you really be wearing… I mean… inappropriate –" she paused for a split second as an idea struck her, one she did not care for at all, "did you have plans to seduce someone tonight and they didn't work? So now you're here, trying to… what? Replace them with me, or something?"_

_For once in her life, Minerva McGonagall was practically incoherent._

" _Oh no, Minerva. Quite the opposite."_

" _Op..Opposite…?" Minerva's breath was slightly more ragged than before, her senses heightened as she felt Bella's hands now gripping her hips._

" _Mmhmm…" Bella breathed into her ear, "I didn't even go to a party. I waited until everyone was drunk enough that they wouldn't remember me walking in this direction, I put this on and then I came here."_

" _But… but, I'm your teacher!"_

" _A teacher who was more than willing to dance with me, alone in her quarters. A teacher…" at this she paused, leaning still closer so she could murmur directly into her ear, "who is positively aroused by how much of my flesh she just saw." Minerva shivered as Bella's lips grazed her earlobe; indeed aroused by Bella Black._

" _No! No, this is… just not right," she pulled away, released from the girl's grip, "Bella, you're six-" The clock chimed midnight._

" _Seventeen, actually."_

_Bella tugged at the zip of her skirt and it fell down easily._

" _God, Bella, I'm still your teacher for months..." But she couldn't help but look at the underwear which so clearly matched the corset. Lacy and revealing, and so tempting to the professor._

" _And who knows what will happen after that? I knew you wouldn't touch me until I was an adult, which is why I had to wait until tonight. But I'm determined to have you, Minerva, because I know you want me too."_

_Minerva was shaking her head, looking everywhere but at the tantalising woman in front of her._

" _Minerva, no one would ever suspect a thing. I'm a Slytherin, and you aren't someone who would even be considered to have a relationship with a student. It would be so easy…"_

_She stepped closer as Minerva backed away, continuing forwards until Minerva's legs hit the sofa and she fell back onto it into a sitting position. Bella smiled her predatory smile as she walked closer still, straddling Minerva with ease._

" _You know you want to."_

_Minerva gasped as she looked up at Bella, who took advantage of their positions, and leaned forward. She pressed her lips to the woman beneath her, lightly at first, but as Minerva surrendered with a groan, the kiss was instantly deepened; their lips crushed together, their tongues moving in each other's mouths, small moans escaping._

_Minerva McGonagall was not a woman to be so easily taken, however, and she was determined to assert some form of dominance. The fact that Bella seemed to have almost total control of the situation didn't stop her from ripping open the seventeen-year-old's corset and tossing it to the floor, nor did it stop her from leaning forward and taking a breast into her mouth, dragging her nails down Bella's back as she arched into her. She moved to other breast, leaving a trail of kisses as she went, her fingers now playing with Bella's lace underwear before she ripped it down the seam and tugged until it was removed, garter and suspenders with it._

" _Well, I did not expect that, Professor." Bella gasped out, somehow still keeping her sultry tone as she spoke._

_It was suddenly so arousing to hear her official title fall from Bella's lips, something Minerva knew she would regret later when they were in class together. She pushed the thought aside and continued her ravaging._ _Quickly, Bella took Minerva by the shoulders and forced her to stand up._

_"You're not in charge anymore though, Minerva."_

_The older woman shuddered as Bella pulled off her dress, muttering "It's probably a good thing you wear such loose robes. I couldn't have waited this long if you wore that every day-" she cut herself off by grasping Minerva's thin bra between her teeth and ripping it off while her hands pushed down the green lace to reveal what Bella wanted most. She dropped to her knees, simultaneously pushing her professor roughly back onto the sofa, both of them fully naked now and aroused beyond belief. Bella caught small amounts of Minerva's flesh between her teeth, starting at her knees and moving upwards, nipping at both of her thighs as she got higher, enjoying the gasping from above her._

" _Bella…" a surprisingly warning voice issued from Minerva, and Bella had to comply._

_Minerva couldn't help but groan, she hadn't expected the girl to be this good… No one had ever made her make this much noise, come this undone before now. She pulled Bella back up and kissed her roughly, wanting them to fall over the edge together for this first time. They moved their fingers inside each other in exactly the same way, biting down on the other's shoulders as they hit their climax. Later, in the cover of darkness and tangled between sheets, Bella had whispered her love into Minerva's ear. Her feelings were not unrequited, as Minerva assured her repeatedly before the sun rose and they were forced to part._

The memory proved to be more than Bella could take, her mission momentarily forgotten, along with Voldemort, the war… everything except the woman in front of her, whose lips she claimed in a kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

_My Bella is in there somewhere. The more she remembers, the more I find I can see her…_

Minerva broke their kiss gently, stroking Bella's hair as she did so and revelling in her smile.

"Bella… I never stopped loving you, I want you to know. From our first night together, through the final months of your studies, and all the years after, I have loved you." She whispered the words into her ear and heard the wand still in her hand drop to the floor. Minerva sighed in contentment for the moment, remembering the time she had so desperately wanted her feelings for Bella to leave her heart. "It's been unbearable to see what you've become. The things you've done…" she couldn't continue.

"I acted as I had to, Minerva. I was raised from birth to be this person." Bellatrix spoke in her harsh tones, making the older witch recoil slightly from her. This was not going to be an easy reconciliation; it could end, so easily, with one murdering the other. Tension rose between the witches once more, and for a long moment, neither spoke.

"Do you remember what it felt like, that summer after I finished school?" Bellatrix blurted suddenly, her voice rasping. "Being apart was just as unbearable for you as it was for me, Minerva, as it has been ever since. My seventh year of Hogwarts was the only time I was truly happy, and it was because of you. Before that…" Bella winced as the memories of her childhood flooded through her, ones that she had never told Minerva, "And after that, I haven't been _real_ , sometimes it felt as though I had no control over myself," she stopped, frowning. "You make me feel that way too. Although, with you I don't want a control over my feelings." They paused, each reliving a memory with the same outcome, yet with distinctly different beginnings.

_Minerva paced the rooms in her home restlessly as the day drew darker, the sun finally leaving the sky after the longest day of heat the woman had ever felt. Her tired mind, even after all these months, was still arguing with her wounded heart, relentlessly repeating the reasons why she could not continue with Bella. The age difference, the fact that she had been Minerva's student until very recently... had they been discovered she would have lost her job. As for Bella, well, god only knew what would happen to her. Minerva was well aware of the punishments inflicted in the "noblest house of Black". She thought, and rightly so, that she didn't know even half of what Bella went through at home._

_It was August, the days slipping by quickly to the beginning of a new school year that would not include Bella Black. She knew that Bella had been offered an Apprenticeship with the Ancient Runes department, but that the young woman had politely refused, citing prior family arrangements._

_She wrung her hands most uncharacteristically before taking a swig of Firewhiskey, smiling as the flavour coated her taste buds, reminding her of Bella. Reminding her of kissing Bella passionately, the taste of the burning alcohol between them. Suddenly, the alcohol on its own was less appealing to the Professor, Bella's words ringing in her mind._

" _You know you want to."_

_Minerva McGonagall made her decision._

_The sun had been scorching; the brightness of it seeping through the darkness Bella was surrounded by in her room. She lived in irritation caused by the light that she couldn't keep out, her curtains couldn't block it. Only when the night came, finally, could she feel more content with her situation. It was drawing in slowly across the horizon, she knew, and so she settled herself in the same place she did every evening as the sun set; in her window seat, prepared to watch the light disappear from the world. It felt safer. She was left alone in the darkness, always. It was the daytime that she was subjected to cruelty, punishments doled out by her parents. They said it would make her who she was destined to be._

_Being away from Minerva for so many weeks had slowly sent her into a spiralling despondency; they had been unable to even write to each other in case the letters were intercepted by unwanted readers, and it meant Bella Black was living on hope. Hope that the woman she loved hadn't decided, in her absence, that she could not continue a relationship with her. Or worse, that she had found someone else. Someone better, who was not about to begin her training for the war that would soon be upon them all._

_Bella shuddered at the thought, her mind consumed with vile images of Minerva touching someone else in the way she had touched her, moans being drawn out from her throat, convulsing under someone, or bringing them to a release like she had with her. She was drawn from these thoughts quickly when a knock sounded from her bedroom door._

_Mere minutes after deciding on her course of action, Minerva was being led through the Black household by a house elf, wizened with age, to be greeted by a couple who bore little resemblance to their daughter. Minerva was glad of this, secretly, that her lover had few family traits in her. After introducing herself politely, slightly breathless after a lengthy walk from the outside of their wards, she found herself answering through clenched teeth that she was indeed a pure blood. A lie, but a necessary lie in this situation. The tension between the couple and their daughter's teacher eased as they invited her into a room filled only with a large mahogany table surrounded by chairs, all of which were encased with a twisting metal enchanted to look like the Black family crest._

_As soon as the questions arose as to why she was there, Minerva's already aimed wand released a spell she silently chanted in her mind._

_Confundo._

_Bella knew instantly who it was; no one else would rap on the door quite so rudely with their knuckles. Walking in without any hint of respecting his daughter's privacy, his face impassive as he strolled towards her, Bella noticed her father was wearing his best outer robes – her parents were going out for the evening._

" _Bellatrix, there is a visitor downstairs who requests your presence, a Professor McGonagall. You may speak with her for the evening whilst we are gone, but be warned, girl. You have a reputation to uphold, and I do not want you letting anything slip about our arrangement now your education is over." He leaned towards her threateningly and grabbed her left forearm. "And neither does the Dark Lord" he hissed. As he left, Bella unconsciously rubbed the spot he had seized, knowing what would reside in her skin in just one year, but having been mostly unaware of what her father had said as soon as Minerva's name was mentioned._

_She waited until she heard the front door of their mansion slam shut before racing downstairs to be greeted by utter silence. Her stomach twisting with excitement, she made her way into the dining area quickly, breaking into a run when she spotted the raven-haired woman seated in one of the uncomfortable chairs surrounding the mahogany table in the centre of the room. She stopped just short of the woman, glancing around uncertainly._

" _Professor McGonagall." She greeted politely._

" _Miss Black. I require a word with you, privately, regarding matters of your offer of apprenticeship at Hogwarts." Minerva allowed one small smile grace her features to reassure Bella._

" _Of course, Professor. If you would accompany me to the study upstairs?"_

_Minerva nodded, trying not to smile wider at Bella's attempt to move them to somewhere without as much worry of being caught. Despite the house being empty, most of the rooms gave its inhabitants a feeling of being watched, particularly now. Bella's room, however, was quite different. Once upstairs, Bella closed her bedroom door behind them silently, twisting round to find Minerva directly in front of her. She gasped when Minerva took both of her hands and kissed them gently. Bella's breathing became heavier; a summer, almost two months, without this woman had been hellish. It was remedied only by the feel of Minerva's lips on hers, her hands grasping at her waist, removing her black vest, pushing it over her hips without breaking their kiss and dragging her down skirt with it. Bella was left in her boots and her underwear, plain black satin – one of her most boring pairs, but they still pleased Minerva, it seemed, as she pulled them off the girl and led her towards the bed in the middle of the room. Bella stepped out of her heeled boots on the way, glad Minerva had thought to cast charms preventing anyone from entering the room, and from hearing any sounds from within._

_Minerva pushed Bella down onto the bed, her mouth already trailing paths from her collarbone, closer and closer to where Bella needed it most, where Minerva so desperately craved to taste again. When her talented tongue had brought Bella to a shattering climax, she was delighted to return the favour, having been imagining such a moment for weeks while alone in her room. She used her fingers, her nails, teeth and tongue and smiling widely as Minerva screamed her name._

_Later, as they rested still tangled together, Bella had asked how she had convinced her parents to leave, and Minerva had merely smiled guiltily. She had never suspected this would be one of the last moments they would spend together._

"I couldn't have waited any longer to see you, Bella."

Minerva smiled at the woman in front of her, marvelling at how little her actual features had changed since then – except for her eyes. Once expressive, they were near dead, a haunted look the only sign of life, although it had definitely receded somewhat since she had been in Minerva's private rooms. They had retreated to the bed once more, both lying on their sides with their arms around the other, legs entangled together.

"Nor could I resist enchanting your parents so they would leave us be for the evening. It had been too long a wait, or so I thought until this evening. I don't think I want to recall just how many years it's been since we were in this bed together."

Bella smiled at her lover carefully, wincing a little at an unknown pain. The Mark on her arm was suddenly uncomfortable, but not in the same way to make her think she was being summoned. It was fading; less prominent than usual, and the snake protruding from the skull was still, unmoving for the first time.

"Minerva, look…"

"He grows weaker still, darling. The Potter boy had a mission, left by Dumbledore – it was in their blood to defeat Voldemort."

Bellatrix winced as her lover spoke her master's name aloud, flashes of the war suddenly visible in her mind. She saw Nagini murdering Snape on their master's command, and she shuddered violently.

"Bella? What's wrong?" Minerva's tone was laced with concern as she watched various expressions of fear and disgust flit across her face.

Bellatrix watched the scene unfolding in her own mind, Snape leaning towards the Potter boy and giving him the memories pouring from him, then flashed forward to a far clearer picture, one she imagined must be what was happening in front of Potter right at that moment. He heard his orders to his two friends, one of them another ginger Weasley, the other a bushy haired Muggle-born.

" _Kill the snake_."

She was brought back to reality with a harsh convulsion, unaware that she had spoken the words aloud.

"Bella… what just happened?"

She recounted what she saw to Minerva rapidly, recalling every detail as though she had been there personally, stopping only when Voldemort's face flashed in front of her mind, a wand pointed towards someone she couldn't see in her mind's eye. Upon seeing her master's face, the memory of what she had been ordered to do was suddenly prominent in her mind again, frighteningly loud inside her own mind.

"He knows," Bellatrix whispered. "Minnie, he knows!"

"Knows what? What does he know, Bella?" Minerva demanded, her previous state of contentment vanishing as she saw Bella's distress.

"He knows I have you, that we're together. And he knows that I have not yet killed you. If Potter doesn't succeed… he will find us both. Unless I return…" she choked the words out, a plan formulating in her mind.

"Then we will just have to hope that Potter does succeed. And if he does not… we'll run." Minerva said, her tone firm. She knew what might be going through Bellatrix's head - or, she thought she did, _hoped_ she did.

"We tried that once before, remember?" Bellatrix murmured sadly, the simulated memories of what might have been had they escaped before it was too late flooding her mind.

They could have lived as a married couple somewhere safe, been together as often as they wanted, shared a bed for decades without worry of being caught and judged. They could have… started a family. Lived happily ever after. It was not to be.

The tear trickling down Bellatrix's cheek matched the ones already coursing down Minerva's at their shared thought.


	4. An Interlude in the Forest

Voldemort had retreated with his army to the Forest. Potter would come, he knew this for certain. At this moment while he waited for the inevitable, his mind was occupied with Horcruxes and Prophecies. Nagini was the only Horcrux he had left thanks to that meddlesome, Muggle loving fool and his beloved _Potter._ No matter. He would come, and when he did, he would meet the same end his parents did. One Prophecy would be complete. _Neither can live while the other survives…_

It was the second Prophecy he knew of which troubled him at this moment. The glaring lack of his usual second in command had not failed to go unnoticed by his closest Death Eaters; he knew this from a practiced sense of Legilimency that he had instilled throughout the group of those who bore his Mark. They had allowed their thoughts to wander, briefly, as to where Bellatrix Lestrange had disappeared to.

A flash of memory, an image, appeared in the mind of Dolohov, who had been occupied by his pleased thoughts of swiping the lives of the werewolf, Lupin, and the young niece of Bellatrix herself. Dolohov's train of thought flew quickly from the reminder that Bellatrix herself did not know her niece, to the length of time she had been absent from the fray of soldiers since Disapparting with McGonagall, a knife held to the latter's throat.

Voldemort pondered this vision carefully. She, one of his most trusted Death Eaters, must simply be carrying out her orders. She was always one to toy with her food before she eats it, he knew, and yet… the snippets of the second Prophecy entered his mind once more. Forcing a mental shield to distance himself from his band of followers, Voldemort returned to his own memory of the discovery, brought to his attention from a Ministry witch some months earlier.

_She strolled up to him with an almost unwavering confidence, dressed from head to toe in garish pink robes that made his eyes narrow. He hated her on sight, for the nerve of her approaching him as though she was someone who could bring him something useful._

_"_ _My Lord," she said, her voice soft, a slight tremor to it conveying her nerves at being in his presence. She bowed her head and simply waited._

_"_ _Dolores Umbridge, I believe." He stated, after a few sticky seconds had ticked by. She nodded once. "You have information?" He sounded almost bored. He had already decided she would die; there was no way her information could be interesting enough to assault his senses in such a way with that pink._

_"_ _I do, My Lord, I only hope it is of use to you. One of the Mudbloods we discovered at the Ministry was... punished. He had stolen a wand, of course, and..." she stumbled slightly over her words, but it was of no importance. The Dark Lord always knows._

_"_ _He gave you information." It wasn't a question._

_"_ _Yes. Obviously it was under extreme duress and a pathetic attempt to escape punishment for his crimes, but I used Legilimency on him, my Lord, and discovered a Prophecy he had overheard."_

_His wand slashed the air before she could blink, and she found herself rigid, falling backwards to the floor as he stood over her. Her terrified eyes, the only movement available to her, sought his face as he started down at her coldly._

_Legilimens._

_The spell worked as well as it ever did and he descended through the depths of her mind, memories flashing before him as he did. She did not try to defend herself, something which might have surprised him, but in those first few seconds delving through her, he developed a very clear sense of exactly who this woman was. Draped in pink, surrounded by pictures of kittens and other such twee nonsense, he felt rather than saw exactly what made the woman before him a danger. A slow, awful smile spread over his distorted features. A power hungry woman who despised dirty blood. He saw her telling everyone she was descended from Slytherin - saw his own locket, saw it stolen by that meddlesome child and his Mudblood friend - saw her take her frustrations out on the man who writhed in pain below her._

_"_ _Crucio!" She screeched at him, her voice cracking with the force of her hatred._

_The man screamed louder, his face contorted. She stared down at him with a wicked smile curling at her mouth._

_"_ _Please!" He gasped as the curse stopped momentarily. "Please, I can give you information! I know of a Propechy- "_

_She flicked her wand almost lazily and he screamed again, his voice now weak with strain. His body was jerking restlessly, gargling in his throat sounding like he was choking._

_"_ _They all want to help our cause eventually," she whispered. "You know nothing, you filthy Mudblood. You've stolen Magic; you deserve this. You should have known your place."_

_Anger flooded through Voldemort's veins. This woman could easily have tortured the man into insanity, and then he would be unable to discover a potential flaw to his plan._

_"_ _Please!" The man gargled. "My wife, she is the descendant of Inigo Imago, the Seer! She -" He was cut off._

_He watched as her mind focused on casting her own Legilimens, and was pulled into the Mudblood's mind. The man was holding a teacup balanced on a matching saucer out to a woman, who was barely an inch from taking it from him with a smile when everything happened very quickly. The cup slipped between their hands and fell, smashing to the floor. The man shot backwards instinctually, away from the boiling liquid and flying china. The woman, presumably his wife, was frozen with her hands still outstretched for the tea. Her eyes had glazed over before rolling backwards into her head, her mouth sagged open slightly. The man had just started to realise something was very wrong when she spoke, low and raspy as though every syllable caused her throat to split._

_"_ _It will happen at the final Battle. The one with the power to turn the Dark Lord's most valued servant against him will will have loved and lost the servant. They will both fight until they find each other. Unless they are slain at the servant's hand, and their love bond irreparably broken, the servant will no longer stay true to the Dark Forces, but return to the Light. The Dark Lord will fall."_

Voldemort slid back to reality, noting no movement in the forest surrounding him. His Death Eaters had retreated to a safer distance from him, all watching intently for any sign of the boy approaching through the trees. Bellatrix remained absent.

What was to be done, if she had indeed defected? How would this impact on his inevitable showdown with Potter?

Potter, who had discovered his secret, who had hunted the locket itself directly to Umbridge, while he himself had been unaware it had been removed from the cave. He had to be destroyed. As for McGonagall, he could handle her afterwards if he had to - Bellatrix too.

Mind working at an almost frantic speed, his option came to him as a bolt of lightning. He might not be able to see where she had taken the pride of Gryffindor, but he could certainly remind Bellatrix of the task she had been assigned. It seemed… unlikely that she would desert him. After all these years, surely her indoctrination had been long completed. She had grown into the most vociferous defender of his ideals, and she wasn't afraid to torture and kill to show it. Her father had been more than willing to train his eldest child into a determined soldier who would cause as much carnage and destruction as possible in the name of pure-blooded wizadry.

Once more, he closed his snake-like eyes to the view of the trees. He focused his mind on Bellatrix, able to force his way into her mind. She wasn't too far, he could sense it, and while he could not see into her exact thoughts, he could certainly direct them back to the job at hand. Minerva McGonagall should already be dead. He felt an unusual rush of emotional warmth, confusion, then fear as he projected his rage and impatience into her, and he knew in that moment that there was a good chance that Bellatrix Lestrange may no longer be his most devoted Death Eater. He clenched his teeth as a white hot course of rage engulfed him; Severus Snape had been disposed of, and now Bellatrix Lestrange, instead of ridding him of a powerful member of the Order of the Phoenix was - what, exactly? Holding her hostage, perhaps? Perhaps not. He knew of their history, not that she was aware he did. She had not always been a successful Occlumens.

He pondered his next move. Which Prophecy to focus on?

His decision was made for him as Harry Potter stepped into his midst.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - abuse mentions

Bellatrix was sat on Minerva's bed with her head in her hands.

"I've put you in so much danger, my love," Bellatrix whispered. "Seeing you again... I feel as though I've woken up from a terrible dream. I know all the things I've done, but I remember them as though I'm watching someone else's life instead of my own. I'm filled with remorse," her breath caught in her throat. "I haven't felt anything like it in years."

"Bella…" Minerva's eyes were filled with tears. She was exhausted. The war that had contained itself at Hogwarts for the last few months had really taken its toll on the Professor; she had walked a very precarious line between protecting the students in her care and keeping her job. Had she stood up to the Carrows too vociferously, she would certainly have been replaced with another Death Eater, and what then would become of those students? They were children. They did not deserve this.

"Why?" She snapped. "Why did you choose the side of destruction, when you could have been the person you were _truly_ supposed to be, Bella?" Minerva was suddenly angry at the woman sat in front of her. " _Why?_ Why have you done such terrible things?" She grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her face.

Bellatrix looked up at Minerva through a dark mess of curls that Minerva pushed roughly back out of the way. She held the younger woman's face in her hands while she waited for an answer, not breaking their gaze for a moment. Bellatrix shuddered under her, seemingly searching for a response. They had been in this room for over an hour now, and Minerva had been witness to an almost complete reversal from the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, cruel and unforgiving, to Bella Black, albeit older, tireder and seemingly unable to comprehend quite how she could ever have been so terrible.

"Minerva…" she said slowly. "There's something very strange happening, and I don't know how to explain it."

Minerva waited for further explanation, but none came. She sat down heavily next to Bellatrix, her fear finally completely evaporated, but anger and sadness still pounding through her veins. _If she was really going to kill me, she would have done so already._

"I want you to use Legilimency on me, Minerva."

Minerva blinked into the suddenly younger, more vulnerable face of Bellatrix.

"Why?" She managed, the thought of seeing Bellatrix's worst moments first-hand abhorrent to her. She wasn't sure she could watch the woman she had secretly harboured affection for all these years torture and murder innocent people. It had been difficult enough to forget how much they had loved each other.

"I need you to see for yourself what really happened to me. There's a wall… there's something I can't see, in my own mind. I have a feeling I can't explain that if you break down this wall, everything will become clear."

Minerva sat for a few moments in a shocked silence, contemplating. Was there, after all, a chance that her love could have been the person she had always hoped? That the Death Eater who struck fear in the hearts of so many could actually be a product of a particularly strong Imperious curse, or similar? The Professor let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. If she did this, she wasn't sure what she might discover. It would have taken some serious and perhaps even awful magic to have transformed Bella into what she had become. The girl Minerva had known as a student had never shown signs of being a murder, or sadistic in any way, despite her family. The young woman she had fallen in love with had a slight air of danger about her, certainly, but in the sense that she was brave enough to entice her teacher while still a student, not to commit crimes enough to imprison her for decades.

A pale hand reached to stroke her arm gently, and Minerva started. She had been silent for minutes, and Bellatrix had begun to look concerned. Minerva cleared her throat, still unsure.

"Bella… I'm not entirely certain…" she managed as Bellatrix grasped both her hands in her own.

"Minnie. I really need you to do this. I can't explain why, and I know you have every reason not to trust me, but… please." She stayed staring into Minerva's eyes for a heartbeat, then stood and raised her wand. With a silent summoning charm, she caught Minerva's wand and handed it back to its owner, followed by her own.

Shocked, Minerva held both wands, one in each hand, and stood up slowly.

"Alright, Bella. We can try." She tucked Bellatrix's wand inside her robes and held her own up to point it towards the other woman. It felt wrong, somehow. She was suddenly relieved they were here, like this, instead of battling to the death at Hogwarts. _Would I have shown mercy to the woman I loved?_ She pushed the thought away, indicating that Bellatrix should sit down once more. It felt gentler, somehow, that she sit too, and so she did, with more distance between them than before.

"Close your eyes." Her voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper, but Bellatrix complied. She was more human than she had been in years, and it the sudden influx of emotions including love for Minerva had brought with it a terrible gnawing sensation. It was eased momentarily when she felt Minerva's lips on hers for just a brief second before it happened. Her mind was occupied, this time with less force than when the Dark Lord had reminded her of her task.

Bellatrix could see everything Minerva saw, but her own memories were now coupled with an overwhelming sensory experience of the woman invading her mind. She could smell her wonderfully fresh scent; Minerva had always smelled like rain in the middle of a field. She could feel the soft blanket that they used to wrap themselves in after a night of passion; tartan, of course. She could even taste, ever so slightly, the salt of Minerva's skin.

The first memory came through clearly after a moment of spinning images, and Minerva watched as a young Bellatrix, perhaps 6 years old, received a sharp slap to the face from her father. She held her cheek and burst into tears, only to be pushed to the floor, her head slamming the ground. Minerva flinched; although she saw the pain from afar, watching such an act of violence against a child cut her to her very core. She could feel the child's emotional pain at the impact.

The scene changed. Bellatrix had grown a little, she might have been a year or so older now, and she was sobbing quietly into her pillows. From outside the room, she could hear her parents screaming obscenities at each other. The child buried her head further into the pillow, and Minerva felt the girl's overwhelming desire to disappear forever. She let out a breath; this was already difficult to watch and she knew for certain they hadn't even scratched the surface of what had happened to Bellatrix. These memories were too easily accessible; she had to dive deeper.

Bellatrix was older now, perhaps 10. Her mother held her arms behind her back while her father had his wand pointed at her forehead, so close that the tip was touching the skin. Bellatrix seemed unconscious, her eyes were closed, her head lolling to the side.

Minerva's eyes took a second to adjust as the scene before her changed again, more rapidly this time. She was stood in a pitch black room. It was freezing cold, with no windows. The air was thick with dust, and Minerva felt her nose wrinkle at the smell of sweat. Her eyes finally realised there was a chair in the centre of the otherwise bare room, with a slumped figure in the centre of it. Bellatrix. Her arms were tied behind her back once more, this time with thick black ropes. Her father stood before her, but it was clear Bellatrix was completely unaware of any part of her surroundings. Once more, his wand was pointed at her, but this time he was chanting a spell, his lips moving relentlessly. Minerva could feel the magic crackling in the air around her now; it was clear that Bellatrix was being cursed somehow, but this was nothing Minerva had ever seen before. The bonds holding the young girl's hands together began to glow red, practically sizzling with magic, and Minerva felt certain they would leave burns around the girl's wrists.

In one blink, she was now standing again in Bellatrix's bedroom. It looked similar to how she remembered it from her one visit to the mansion, but with a few notable differences. Bellatrix was now around 13, and would have been home from Hogwarts on a school holiday. She was exactly as Minerva remembered her to be at this age; her dark hair fell down her back but the curls were tight ringlets instead of the tangle they now existed in. She was sat at her desk, clutching a quill and scribbling furiously at a piece of parchment. It was dusk outside her window, and Minerva felt the most at ease here than she had in any of the previous memories. That feeling stayed with her until she reached the desk and saw clearly the essay that Bellatrix was working on. She was frowning in concentration, and Minerva could see harsh burn marks around each of her wrists. She could also see that her face held a large gash from forehead down to chin, missing her left eye with the careful precision of a practiced hand. Minerva hissed slightly. She glanced down at the parchment out of a desire to figure out exactly how old the girl was at this time, and was shocked to see it was not schoolwork.

_Mudbloods and Why They Must be Punished_ read the title. Minerva shuddered, then almost jumped out of her skin as the bedroom door behind them flew open to reveal the parents.

"Well? Why are you not finished?" Her father demanded in a deadly voice. Bellatrix jumped to attention and handed her still wet essay over carefully. Her father, a dark haired man of at least 6 feet, snatched it and scanned his eyes over it before returning his gaze to his eldest daughter.

"You better hope it's of better quality than the last one." He held their eye contact for a second until Bellatrix looked to her feet, then spun and marched out of the room.

Bellatrix was left, looking imploringly at her mother, who could not look her daughter in the eye. She quickly closed the door and followed her husband. The scene began to melt away.

Taking a steadying breath, Minerva delved once more into the mind of her beloved. This time, she used a little force to usher herself further; she had to get deeper to truly find what Bellatrix had referred to as the 'wall'.

She pushed past memories instead of lingering, seeing flashes of abuse, flinching at each unspeakable act of violence towards Bellatrix, unable to tear her eyes away. She had to know.

Finally, after long minutes of searching, she reached a sort of mental block. She could feel rather than see; she was not a tangible body here; but a part of the nothingness. It was nothing she had ever experienced before, but she could not stop now. Steeling her mind, protecting herself with as much strength as she could muster, Minerva sent a shockwave of magic forcefully from her own being into Bellatrix. Nothing happened. She tried again, and again, feeling the beginnings of the resistance start to fail as she could now see flashes of things moving in the darkness surrounding her. The darkness she was part of.

With a sudden impact that winded Minerva so severely it took her a full minute to realise she was once more a presence, the resistance broke down. She wondered for a moment at the apparent ease of this, but stopped immediately when she registered what she was seeing.

Standing over Bellatrix, now perhaps 16, her father once more held his wand tip to her face. This time, however, she was not unaware of her situation. She was screaming terribly, long and loud wails of agony that made Minerva rush to her side. Of course, she could do nothing to help. She could not even touch the girl; her hands hit an invisible barrier just before the material of her sleeve. After the longest minutes of Minerva's life, the curse was retracted and Bellatrix slumped, near lifeless, to the floor. Somehow, she was still vaguely aware of where she was and what was happening to her, because she looked up at her one paternal figure with pleading eyes, a small trickle of blood leaking from her bottom lip. Her face was ghostly white. She could already be dead.

"You understand why this has to happen, Bellatrix?" He demanded of her suddenly. His voice was quieter than Minerva expected, but just as deadly as ever. His daughter nodded shakily, but seemingly determined.

"I must be strong to defeat the Mudbloods. The Dark Lord needs me." Bellatrix's own voice was unlike anything Minerva had ever heard coming from her. It was subservient, broken. Her father raised his wand to her face again without warning, and Minerva could suddenly see exactly what was happening. Whispers of what Bellatrix must do surrounded her, snatches of anti-Muggle rhetoric, _filthy blood must be stopped ..._

Minerva could hardly bear to listen, wracked with pain as she was. They had tortured her into a specific state of insanity; a mental state that would act as a puppet for their needs. She was groomed to become the Dark Lord's greatest servant without her choice or knowledge. Minerva knew this as surely as she knew her own name, but still she did not look away from the scene in front of her as it dissolved again. There was more to come.

"Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange; I now pronounce you bonded for life." A short wizard in black robes cast a charm over their linked hands then stepped away quickly, his head bowed. Lord Voldemort was at their side in an instant, having watched the ceremony from the side of Bellatrix's ageing father. He was not yet the monster he had become visually following his rebirth with the help of Peter Pettigrew, but he struck a terror inducing figure nonetheless with his red slits for pupils and his waxy skin. In every memory prior to this, Minerva realised, she could feel the emotions that Bellatrix herself had felt at the time of their occurrence. Now, however, she felt nothing. It was as though a part of Bellatrix had died or been removed; there was simply nothing here. No pain. No fear. Nothing.

She was stood next to her new husband with a face entirely devoid of emotion. She didn't look like a new bride; nor did she look like someone who had been forced into this experience. Her blank eyes were staring into space. It was as though she had no idea where she was.

Minerva was focusing so hard on her face that she barely noticed the scene around them changing. The light faded, an outdoor wedding became a darkened room with a large four poster bed in the centre. She felt a tear slide down her face when she realised what was happening in that bed. Bellatrix's face had not changed. From underneath her new husband, a man much older than her, she was staring at the ceiling through blank eyes. She could have been dead, had it not been for a slight rise and fall of her chest. Minerva felt sick, forcing her eyes closed tightly. She felt the scene change once more.

They were in a darkened room, this time with a long black table in front of a roaring fire which emitted the only light in the room. Death Eaters were seated sparsely from one end to the other, but none moved or spoke. There were roughly seven or eight of them, spaced out as though they were waiting for others to join them. All of them had their eyes fixed on the woman stood at the head of the table.

Years had clearly passed since her wedding; Bellatrix was fully crazed and terrifying. She was speaking vehemently.

"The Dark Lord may not be here, but he is not defeated. He will rise again, and when he does, those that are faithful to him will be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams. We, unlike these _traitors_ ," she spat the last word, disgust lacing her features as she glared at the empty seats, "remain loyal to our cause."

She began to speak of a plan in a low tone, and suddenly, with a white hot flash of fear that reverberated down her spine, Minerva knew what would be next.

She recognised the Longbottom's quaint house the second the scene formed around her, and found herself desperately beginning the ascent out of Bellatrix's mind, away from the terrible screams that began from the married couple. She flew backwards with speed for a few seconds before she finally landed heavily back into her own home, tears streaking down her face as she stared at the woman in front of her, now slumped to the side with exhaustion at the mental probing.

Minerva's wand slipped from her fingers as her knees gave way. She hit the floor with a thud, and there she stayed, the tears still falling at the realisation.

Bella Black had been indoctrinated; tortured and controlled to become the notorious murderer that kneeled in front of her. One question remained.

Was her love for Minerva McGonagall enough to break years of Dark Magical manipulation?


	6. Chapter 6

Bellatrix came to her senses after a few long minutes, during which time Minerva had used her wand to levitate the witch onto the bed once more. She lay almost peacefully against the pillows, the only sign she was not simply resting was a slight crease over between her eyebrows. Minerva sat next to her, holding one of her hands and stroking her face gently. She didn't know where to go from here.

All she could do for the moment was sit and watch and Bellatrix's eyes opened slowly, registering her surroundings bleary eyed. She brightened considerably when she recognised Minerva, and clutched her hand tighter.

"I saw what you were seeing until you found the block. Once you broke it, I could only make out flashes of what you saw," Bellatrix said uncertainly. "You saw the wedding?"

Minerva nodded, still feeling particularly choked up. "That's right. That was the first memory I saw without any emotion to it whatsoever. All the ones prior to the wedding, I could feel the emotions you had at the time."

"It's still mixed up to me. Did you… does anything make sense to you?" Bellatrix was staring at her, wide eyed and desperate for a response, an explanation. Minerva took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. She truly was exhausted. She could barely concentrate; all this information was threatening to undo her. Her mind was a constant thrum of worry; _the battle… the Order… Harry Potter… Bella… Bella had been brainwashed…_

Pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand, Minerva removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes tiredly before answering.

"Yes, Bella. It made sense to me. I can explain what happened to you, but please just give me a moment," Minerva requested softly. Bellatrix nodded, waiting patiently but biting at her bottom lip anxiously.

"This may come as a shock to you, Bella, or perhaps it will make everything clear… Either way, what I have to say is very unpleasant." She sighed as Bellatrix sat up straighter, clearly preparing herself for the worst. Minerva was under the impression that Bellatrix might already be aware of what had happened to her, although to actually say it aloud would remove all doubt and confirm the worst. Their hands grasped together, Minerva continued.

"You remember the way your father treated you from an early age, Bella. The violence, the verbal abuse. I don't know how clear your memories will be in the years that followed, but from what I saw, it continued into your teenage years. It was often, it was brutal, and it had a purpose." Minerva took another deep breath. Bellatrix remained still as a statue. "Your parents seem to have made a pact with You-Know-," she cut herself off. "With _Voldemort_ ," she practically spat in disgust, "while you were young. You were indoctrinated to believe in the Death Eater mantras of _dirty blood_ , of Muggles stealing magic and being beneath magical folk."

"How?" Bellatrix rasped.

"I… I don't really know what they did, my love." Minerva stroked the curls back from Bellatrix's eyes gently. "I saw what looked like an incredibly dark version of the Imperious curse. You were unconscious through most of it. I remember reading about a certain form of magic that can be used to indoctrinate those it is used against. The caster must focus on their cause, and after a short amount of time, their victim will have imbibed the view as one of their own."

"A short time?"

"That's all that had ever been experimented with, or at least documented. Your father used this spell as a weapon over a number of years to train you to be the most faithful servant of Voldemort. You were mostly unaware of what was happening, as the true damage was being done in you subconscious, while your daily life at home included training as a soldier and teaching you the archaic beliefs of a pure blood." Minerva shook her head. "I would have noticed at school if the change had happened in your own self, but it didn't. Not until a few months after you'd graduated. They released the version of you they had created in your subconscious, and before this version had truly assimilated into the Bella Black I knew, they married you off to Rodolphus."

"I know I married him, but I don't…" Bellatrix was frowning, desperately trying to recall what should have been the happiest day of her life. She had nothing but a hazy image of Rodolphus clasping her hands, a glowing band of magic bonding them together.

"Remember. I know. Yes, I saw your wedding, briefly. You were a shell; the Bella Black whom I loved so dearly was in the process of being taken over by Bellatrix Lestrange, the Death Eater." Minerva took a deep breath. "The result for a short period of time was that you were acting on human instinct only. Think of it as though you had experienced a Dementor's Kiss; there was, for those few days, no soul present. It was in turmoil." Minerva tried to explain once more, seeing that Bellatrix understood, to a limited extent. "The trauma you have experienced is so deeply ingrained in you that you have what can only be described as two identities inside yourself. You've lived as one person for a long time now, Bella, but it seems the first identity is who I'm talking to right now."

"That's because of you, isn't it?" There were unfamiliar tears pouring down Bellatrix's face. She wiped them away with more aggression than she intended.

"Me?" Minerva was taken aback. "I don't know, Bella. You seemed to change, the longer we were here talking about our past. Maybe it was simply the reminder of who you used to be."

"No," she shook her head swiftly. "Something changed; I felt it. It started the second I saw you again."

They both paused for a second to wonder what was happening in the battle, their eyes falling simultaneously to Bellatrix's arm. She slowly pulled her sleeve up to reveal her Dark Mark branding, and they both gasped. While the dark ink had faded more since their realisation, the outer edges of the skull were an angry red. It was as though her body was rejecting the image depicted on it. Their eyes met once more, this time both were glazed with emotion. They were both exhausted, scared and exhilarated by their discoveries all at the same time.

"Minerva…" Bellatrix began carefully. "I'm afraid my exhaustion is clouding my ability to truly understand. You spoke of my soul not being present when I married Rodolphus," she rubbed her hands over her face tiredly, frowning. "Is my soul split?"

"I don't believe so, my love. Even after all these acts you have committed, you did so not of your own volition, but of your father's. Perhaps it is his that would be damaged, if he was still with us." Minerva tried to be as gentle as she could while processing the information herself. "When I speak of your soul, I speak of your entire being. Your soul, your _true_ self, is the person who I am speaking to right now. The person who fell in love with me all those years ago, whose love I returned with everything I had. That soul was isolated and imprisoned somewhere deep inside you."

"I think I understand," Bellatrix said slowly.

"If you don't, it's perfectly understandable Bella. You've been through a decades-long ordeal, your memories are not your own but a strangers. You've pledged your service to the Dark Lord; you have murdered-" Minerva cut herself off swiftly and looked at their hands, clasped together once more. She murmured an apology, realising her tirade might do more damage than good.

"You're right." Minerva looked up when Bellatrix spoke. "I have committed… terrible, terrible acts. I have maimed, murdered and tortured. Aside from the Dark Lord himself, I would imagine I am one of the most feared people in the magical community. The Order of the Phoenix would gladly see me killed, or at the very least imprisoned once more."

Minerva wiped away a stray tear that had escaped at the thought of her one true love being ripped from her side once more.

"How can a person be forgiven for such heinous crimes?" Bellatrix whispered.

"When the person went through the ordeal you have. You were not yourself, Bella - a sentiment that is thrown around a lot when Death Eaters have claimed to have been under the influence of the Imperious curse, but in this case, truer words have never been spoken."

The women looked at each other once more, the unasked questions dangling between them. Neither had any answers.


	7. Chapter 7

They had lapsed into troubled silence for almost an hour before Minerva began to wonder how long she had been away from the battle. Sat at the foot of her bed, she was staring out the window to the peaceful fields when she noticed Bellatrix had dropped into an exhausted sleep. She was curled in a ball on her side, also facing towards the window. Her face was the most relaxed Minerva had ever seen it; even all those years ago during the stolen hours they had spent together, she had always had a slight crease between her brows while she slept. Her young lover had never seemed truly relaxed, not even in sleep. Minerva now knew why, and the thought of everything Bella had been through rose up in her like vomit. She was asleep now only because of the mental exertion she had undertaken when Minerva had broken through the barrier created by her father and strengthened by Lord Voldemort.

She sat with her head in her hands, thinking about everything, trying to make a decision as to what to do next. Her school (for it was _her_ school, no matter that Snape had taken over after Albus was murdered) was still under attack. She couldn't sit here any longer fighting her personal battle when her students and colleagues were in danger. Many of them were like her family. _God, but I miss Albus._ He was the only person who would have understood her current predicament. She had told a slight lie to Bellatrix earlier when she'd said she had always kept their relationship a secret; Albus Dumbledore had known, just as she had known about Gellert Grindelwald. They had admitted it to each other soon after she had begun teaching, during a night of melancholy drinking together in the Headmaster's private quarters. It was soon after she'd lost her husband of just 3 short years, when she thought she would never recover from the pain. He'd been her best friend, older than her by a fair amount, more than she surpassed Bellatrix in years, and he had pursued her fairly relentlessly for a while. She had liked him, but not enough to warrant a yes to his many engagement offers for a long time. She could barely remember why she'd said yes, looking back. It was easy, comfortable. It was love, in a way, but not in the way she knew it now.

Minerva McGonagall had experienced love in many ways by the time Bella Black walked into her private study that day, but nothing had ever come close to how she felt about that girl. Not even now, all these years later. She smiled sadly at the thought, still watching Bellatrix lying there, her breath leaving her in in long, calm releases of air. Minerva picked up her wand and gently stood up, walking to her desk. Quietly, she found a quill and a half empty ink bottle next to a shred of parchment. She leaned over and began to write, hoping to whatever deity was listening that Bellatrix didn't wake up from the sound of the quill scratching. She placed the note carefully near Bellatrix's hand on the bed, then left her bedroom, closing the door almost silently behind her before preparing herself to Apparate.

She was going back to Hogwarts.

The Apparition took her back to the Great Hall. Not a living soul was in there with her, but the dead lined the floor in huge numbers. She shuddered, looking at familiar faces helplessly as she walked to the doors to the Entrance Hall. She was numb, the shock of the sight was overwhelming, but it was not as unsettling as the silence that surrounded her. All she could hear were the echoes of her own footsteps as she drew closer to finding some answers. It was eerie; there were still portraits lining the walls as she made it to the Entrance Hall but they were void of occupants. She stumbled slightly as she made it to the double doors that led outside, which were just barely hanging on, their hinges ready to give any second. And then she heard it.

"Harry Potter is dead."

Minerva clutched her chest as the pain in her heart threatened to force her to her knees. Letting out a howl of pain that formed around the word "NO!", she managed to remain upright, hearing no more than what sounded like rushing water in her ears for a few seconds. Finally, with an effort that felt like it would deplete her of energy entirely, she made her way towards that terrible voice. People were gathered outside the school entrance, a huge number of them, with a clear divide down the middle. Voldemort himself stood between the two sides, a few feet away from Neville Longbottom. Minerva hissed when she saw what had become of the boy; he was covered in blood, his wand still gripped at his side as he spoke words of courage to the Dark Lord that she could barely hear. She drew closer, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. If Potter was truly dead, the war was as good as over. She knew this as certainly as she knew that if she was found here, without Bellatrix, they would make the assumption that she had bested a Death Eater and destroyed her. She would be hunted; Voldemort himself would want to avenge the loss of his most faithful and loyal servant.

She watched in horror as Neville had the Sorting Hat forced down over his eyes. Her own gasp was drowned in the screams and protests of the Order and the rest of the fighters for the Light as they watched the hat, aflame atop Neville's head.

She looked towards Voldemort raising her wand even from this distance, behind a crowd of people, but she should have known he would see her. She was stood a few steps higher than the crowd, her hair was still free from its usual tight bun and was flowing out around her shoulders in the breeze. The momentary lapse in the Dark Lord's concentration allowed for the silencing charms he had cast over his enemies to break, and not for the first time it seemed, judging from his malevolent look of fury. Minerva and Voldemort broke eye contact at the sight of Neville Longbottom, the boy she had silently cursed in her mind so many times for his utter lack of sense, tearing a long, glittering sword from the depths of the Sorting Hat, torn from his head a mere second before.

She screamed aloud when she watched him slice it through the air with precision, beheading the serpent that had been raised in attack towards the boy.

For a few minutes, everything was pandemonium. There was mayhem everywhere she looked, people fled back to the castle to avoid the feet of trampling giants, and Harry - " _Harry! Where's Harry?!"_ \- had vanished from view.

The centre of the Great Hall was once more filled with fighters and Minerva McGonagall found herself at the heart of it. Before she knew it, Voldemort himself was a mere few feet away from her and she had raised her wand to cast the first spell in a duel. At her best, Minerva was equal to him, but Minerva was far from her best right now. She was thankful to see out the corner of her eye that she was flanked on both sides by Horace Slughorn and Kingsley Shacklebolt, both of whom were fighting just as hard as she was, although neither could get a clear spell at their target. She felt more than one dangerous shot graze her, she knew her robes were torn, her head bleeding. Her hands were shaking. In a second, both Kingsley and Horace had been blown backwards, while she and Voldemort stood facing each other, alone in their battle once more. The war raged around them, no one else could step forward to help her as each was engaged in their own battle, the Death Eater numbers were lesser than when this had begun hours ago, but they still outnumbered the light. Before she could move, he had taken a step forward and hissed "Legilimens."

She felt her memories at the brink of her mind, wide open to the Dark Lord before she could block his magic, and she saw her realisation of what had happened to Bellatrix. With a great force of will to repel him before he discovered where Bellatrix was, Minerva expelled him from her mind and readied herself. The second the next Legilimens spell left her lips, she had fired a swift " _Protego!_ " and she was seeing inside his own thoughts.

_Horcruxes… Prophecies…_

_Neither can live while the other survives…_

_The one with the power to turn the Dark Lord's most valued servant against him will will have loved and lost the servant…_

_Unless they are slain at the servant's hand, and their love bond irreparably broken, the servant will no longer stay true to the Dark Forces, but return to the Light._

Images of Harry Potter and Bellatrix Lestrange had appeared with the recollection of each Prophecy, and Minerva suddenly understood everything with a clarity she had never experienced before. Harry Potter had to kill the Dark Lord. Bellatrix Lestrange would return to the Light unless she killed her true love. _Which had to mean..._ Unless she was very much mistaken, Bellatrix had already fulfilled one Prophecy this evening and (she smiled as she saw the boy appear from under his Invisibility cloak) Harry Potter was about to fulfil the other.

Bellatrix stirred, knowing before her eyes opened that something was wrong. She sat up quickly, staring around the room as her vision adjusted to the darkness surrounding her. She knew she was alone, and this frightened her. She hadn't felt fear for so many years now, and the intensity of it forced her to a standing position, feeling around for her wand as she did so. Instead, she found a scrap of parchment with her name on, written in a shaky hand that resembled the perfect scrawl of Minerva McGonagall.

_Bella,_

_Please stay where you are, and stay calm. I will come back for you, but right now I have to return to Hogwarts. My people are there, and I must fight alongside them. I would never forgive myself if I stayed here and let them fight for my school, for my beliefs, while I stayed away willingly._

_You will know if Lord Voldemort is defeated by the Dark Mark, I'm sure of it. No one will know where to find you, I swear it._

_Please, Bella. Wait for me here. I will do everything I can to clear your name. I have left evidence in a phial on my desk of your true nature - if anything happens to me,_ **_use it_ ** _._

_I will return to you, my love._

_Min._

Bellatrix hissed at the thought of Minerva fighting. She was cold all over at the idea that Voldemort had ordered her death specifically - there had to be a reason for it, she was sure. But what?

Pacing around the room, the letter in one hand and her wand clutched tightly in the other, she couldn't decide what to do. Minerva was right; she would never have forgiven herself had she not rejoined her army. She also had a point that Bellatrix needed her name cleared before she went anywhere near the war; her former side was no longer her own, while the side of the Light to which she now belonged considered her nothing better than a savage murderer. Head in her hands, she sat on the edge of Minerva's now rumpled bed. She pressed her fingers into her eyes tightly, trying to stem the flow of tears that threatened her. All these years that she had wasted, albeit unknowingly, on servitude of the Dark Lord, when she could have been with Minerva. She could have fought against evil, instead of perpetrating it. She wandered to the desk in the corner of the room and sat down at it heavily, pondering where Minerva could have left evidence. She pulled open the nearest drawer on the right hand side and saw it immediately; a tiny phial filled with pearly, near translucent memories. Taking it out gently, she turned it between her fingers, pondering exactly what could be in here to show her innocence.

_Was she innocent?_

She let out a breath, pushing her curls from her eyes before she noticed an emerald hair clip that had lain next to the memories. She pulled her tattered hair back away from her face and clipped it behind her head as she wondered what could be depicted within the phial. There was no way for her to check; not here. Pensieves were particularly hard to come by. And so she waited, her stomach a painful knot of anxiety, for her love to return to her. She hadn't even told her how she felt.

She began to pace once more, her wand still held tightly at her side, remembering the moment they had parted ways for what could have been the final time. Her mind warped the thought; it was, like every other memory that she had from that very day onwards, of low quality, as though she was watching through a haze. It didn't matter, though. She remembered the words spoken as clearly as though it was yesterday.

_"_ _Please, Bella," she was sobbing._

_Bellatrix pushed Minerva away from her harshly. "I'm going. It's who I am." she snarled._

_"_ _I love you." Minerva reached her hand towards the younger woman, her face shiny with tears._

_"_ _How unfortunate for you."_

_"_ _You don't mean that, I know you don't. Why are you acting this way? What have they done to you, Bella?"_

_She caught hold of her arm, and Bellatrix dragged it out of her grip with a hiss of rage - and pain. Minerva's eyes widened with the realisation that she had been branded. It had finally happened, the day she had been dreading, hoping against hope it would never come, that Bella would choose her instead…_

_Bellatrix moved her mouth very close to Minerva's ear and began to whisper._

_"_ _You'll be sorry you ever tried to bring me to the Light, Minerva. You and all of your half-blood, Mudblood, Muggle-loving scum… you'll all be sorry."_

_Minerva took a step backwards at the hatred in her tone, and Bellatrix used the moment to Disapparate. The last image Minerva had of the woman she loved was a twisted, sneering grimace._

Bellatrix had stopped pacing. She was once more horizontal on Minerva's bed, clutching a pillow to her face. _How long had she been gone?_ She had no idea. It was almost dawn outside now; the sky was gradually changing from inky black to a golden-pink. It was beautiful, but Bellatrix couldn't bare to look at something so natural or pure. Not now. Not yet.

She had to know what was happening at the school. Pushing herself into an upright position, she closed her eyes and forced her mind to focus. The Dark Mark on her arm had faded a few shades more since Minerva had left, but she didn't understand why. It was still red and raised around the edged, as though her skin couldn't endure the touch of the skull shape any longer. Taking a deep breath, she pictured her once Master and within a few moments, she had managed to slip unnoticed into his mind. This connection between them had developed over the years, very slowly, and she had never had a reason to use it until the last 24 hours. Now, however, she watched as he duelled with Minerva, and a sharp hiss left her lips. _He would not hurt her._

Suddenly, her resolve was stronger than ever, and she knew what she had to do. If it meant her own death, she would make sure the woman she loved survived, and was safe. Bellatrix readied herself to Disapparate.


	8. Return to the Battle of Hogwarts

Bellatrix appeared outside of the Hogwarts castle with a loud crack in the midst of the raging battle outside the school. The grounds were filled with giants, centaurs, acromentula, all fighting amongst themselves for dominance. There were, however, no wizards anywhere to be seen. She gripped her wand tightly as a sweeping nervousness enveloped her, and her footsteps towards the castle faltered. She could not do battle. Right now, she could barely remember an attacking spell incantation, never mind move fast enough to protect herself. She had no idea who she was anymore. The only thing she knew for certain was that she could not lose Minerva McGonagall - the one, shining aspect of truth in her otherwise murky life.

In a moment of triumph at her own quick thinking, Bellatrix cast a Disillusionment charm over herself, shuddering as she felt the odd trickling sensation down her entire body. Steeling herself, she started up the stone steps into the castle, avoiding the debris of the battle, thinking of nothing but finding Minerva and ensuring she was safe. She stepped towards the Great Hall, noting, with a growing feeling of unease, how quiet the castle was. Bellatrix stepped through the double doors into a crowd of people who were in a large circle, all watching the altercation at the centre avidly. On one side of the hall stood the Death Eaters, who looked rather worse for wear. She spotted Narcissa, stood next to her husband and son. She was gripping Draco's hand as though her life depended on it, her eyes flicking constantly to the door. Bellatrix could practically hear her brain whirring in a desperate attempt to remove her son from this situation. She felt a rush of longing towards her sister then. They had always been close; as close as they could have been considering what had happened to Bellatrix, anyway, but Narcissa had escaped the cruelty and torture of their father. She had also refused the Dark Mark, never offering herself to the Dark Lord even as her husband did. This had been accepted by Lord Voldemort due to the usefulness Lucius provided to him. Narcissa loved him, she thought, but not enough to keep her son in such danger. Draco had had a price on his head by the Order ever since he had attempted to murder Dumbledore, she was sure of it.

Bellatrix was torn from her rumination as she noticed, finally, exactly what everyone in the Great Hall was facing. She tore her eyes away from her sister and nephew as she heard Minerva's voice echo through the hall.

"The Prophecies you have set so much store to will all be fulfilled tonight, Tom Riddle," Minerva spoke clearly, her words a shock to both sides of the crowd surrounding her. Harry Potter stood behind the Dark Lord, his wand raised, waiting. "The servant you assigned to kill me did not complete her task, and so our love bond has not been broken," another murmur ran through the waiting crowd, "Bellatrix Lestrange has been restored to her true self. She is no longer yours to control."

Voldemort was furious at this; his wand slashed the air in a whipping motion towards Minerva, blowing her backwards to fly into the wall behind her. She hit her head with a sickening crack, and slid down to slump to the ground, her wand falling loosely beside her.

Without pausing to think, Bellatrix let out an unhinged shriek at the same time a the fighters gasped, either in horror or jubilance, and rushed to her side, paying no mind to the gasps of confusion as she pushed her way through the crowd. Still an invisible force, she pelted past Potter and the Dark Lord, now circling each other with their wands raised. She knelt down next to her love and began examining her, finding a head wound which was losing blood rapidly. Gripping her wand in a shaking hand, Bellatrix began to heal the wounds carefully, ensuring they were clean first, then closing the wound to stem the flow of blood. Nobody paid them much attention; Harry Potter had the crowd enraptured with his proclamation about Severus Snape's innocence.

Tears were forming in Bellatrix's exhausted eyes as Minerva slowly regained consciousness. Now wrapped in Bellatrix's careful arms, her brow furrowed as she felt her embrace, but could not see to whose arms she was protected by.

"Ssh…" Bellatrix murmured into her ear. "I'm here. Disillusionment charm." She stroked her face gently as Minerva's pain slowly subsided. The older witch looked up to where she thought her face might be, then reached for her wand.

"No more hiding, my love." Minerva intoned quietly, gently tapping Bellatrix on the crown of her head, effectively ending her Disillusionment. She felt the odd trickle down her skin once more as she gradually came back into view, still wrapped in an embrace with the Transfiguration Professor. "Everyone in here has just heard me inform them that you are not who you appear to be." She was halted from making further comment when her attention was caught by the inevitable showdown between Voldemort and Potter. Bellatrix knew what was about to happen in the split second before it did. A red spell met a green one, the jets of light rebounding as Voldemort's wand flew into Harry Potter's outstretched hand, its owner falling backwards to hit the ground. After a short moment of shock, of disbelief at the downfall of Lord Voldemort finally becoming reality, all Bellatrix could feel was relief. It swept through her, overwhelming her, and she buried her face in to Minerva's shoulder as the tears escaped her, oblivious to the sounds of jubilation from the majority of remaining fighters.


	9. The Trial

She stood with her hands clasped tightly behind her back, her fingers interlocked. Not for the first time, two people were either side of her, both clutching at one of her arms. They were both gripping tightly above her elbow, too tightly for her to escape, not that she was trying to. She cast her eyes downwards as they walked together, not wanting to see their faces staring at her with accusation and disbelief. Hatred, even. There was only one face she wanted to see, and she couldn't bring herself to search through the crowd for it. She didn't even know if Minerva would be there.

Fingers bit into her skin through her sleeves, though she tried hard to show no signs of discomfort. She was led into the room and placed in front of the chair in the centre. When she didn't seat herself quickly enough for their liking, their hands went to her shoulders simultaneously and her knees bent as she was forced to sit down. The chains on the arms of her chair sprang to life and bound her arms tightly.

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

A voice rang through the silent court. No one was moving, every single pair of eyes in that room was staring at her as though through a haze of hatred. Finally, she raised her head to the source of the deep, resonating voice. Kingsley Shacklebolt. She had duelled him more than once over the course of her life, she knew - she could remember most of her past now, despite it being blurred. Often, she watched her own memories as though in a pensieve; always on the outside of herself. She saw how terrible she was. She knew exactly why these people hated her, and she couldn't blame them. She hated herself twice as much.

"You have been brought before the court to reassess your initial sentence. Present here today are the Wizengamot and members of the International Confederation of Wizards, presided over by myself and Mr Percy Weasley." He gestured to the red haired wizard on his left. "I am currently the interim Minister of Magic following the fall of Lord Voldemort." A shiver ran round the crowd seated around him at the sound of the name.

Those who would decide her fate were seated above her, looking down on her. The other crowds of people on either side of her were lower, closer to her level, and she now realised that she could not make out their faces. They were obscured by a haze of magic, possibly a protective spell, though not a typical Protego. She started slightly when Shacklebolt spoke once more, this time addressing those behind the barrier.

"Bellatrix Lestrange, as I'm sure you are all aware, was initially sentenced without trial. This was due to the sheer number of Death Eaters and supporters of Lord Voldemort who _did_ require a trial, as there was some reasonable doubt they could have been acting under the Imperious Curse, and therefore would not deserve imprisonment for their actions." He paused for a moment to stare at her. She recoiled slightly under the heat of his gaze, feeling the hatred pour from him. In that moment, she knew she would be returning to Azkaban more surely than she knew her own name - but after all, her name was not hers. She had not chosen Lestrange any more than she had chosen Black.

"Given the number of eye witnesses to many of this woman's most heinous acts, and particularly considering that she proudly went to Azkaban rather than renounce Lord Voldemort in the first war, we were not expecting this to be disputed. However, it seems that one of the most prominent members of the Order of the Phoenix has provided evidence that you do, in fact, require a trial." A murmur ran through the crowd once more. Many of these people had not been present for the final Battle of Hogwarts, it seemed. Those who had would surely have known exactly to what the Minister referred.

"The reinstated Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall, has - to the great shock of our people - fought incessantly to free you from Azkaban. You are here today to be questioned by this court with regards to her testimony. Do you understand this?"

She nodded once, feeling herself trembling slightly. _Oh, Minerva, how I miss you._

"We require spoken clarification." A second voice, from the red haired man next to Shacklebolt spoke. His tone was hard, cold as ice. Not one soul in this court would ever believe her.

"I understand." She managed, quietly but clearly.

"Mr Weasley, if you could please state the reasoning behind this court's decision to imprison Ms Lestrange without trial?"

The pompous wizard nodded, and began to speak in the same hard voice, which was very well spoken and unlike the others in his family she had come across, she was sure of it. The rest had been considered blood traitors, and had been closely monitored by Voldemort's cronies when the Ministry had been under his reign. This one, on the other hand… she was sure he had remained at the Ministry under Thicknesse.

She sat, growing more uncomfortable by the second as the Weasley read, from a lengthy piece of parchment, each and every instance of her crimes that they knew of. When he reached her torture of the Longbottom family, the crowd on either side of her hissed and shuddered with sounds of despair and calls of revenge on her filling the room. She blinked tears from her eyes at the thought of what she had done, particularly to their son. She had stolen his childhood, much as her own had been taken from her.

Finally, he was nearing the end of the parchment, and her shoulders were tensed so tightly she felt they might implode.

"…kidnap at knifepoint of one Minerva McGonagall, who will be called on for evidence later." He concluded with a sharp glance to the interim Minister before resuming his seat. The people in the benches surrounding her were all talking to one another now, an angry hum of conversation that made her feel as though she was trapped underneath the weight of it.

The moment Shacklebolt began to speak, however, the buzzing stopped. He nodded once to Weasley, then turned to face her. His eyes didn't leave hers as he leaned slightly towards her, monitoring her as though she were about to explode any moment.

"We will bring Headmistress McGonagall before the court in due course. Before then, do you have anything to say in defence of yourself?" His face was impassive, but his tone somehow suggested his disbelief with the smallest of inflections on 'defence'. In his eyes, she had none. She had no reasons for what she had done that could possibly convince him of her innocence. Once more, the question arose in her head that made her feel faint. _Was she innocent?_

"Ms Lestrange."

Her head whipped up, knowing she was running out of time to defend herself, but her voice was choked in her throat and she couldn't force the words out.

"In that case, we shall call our first witness." Shacklebolt's voice rang through the room once more.

"Get it over with and get her back to Azkaban!" Screamed a furious voice from her left, and a resounding cheer went up from the stands. The jury remained silent, but she could clearly see a few nods of agreement, and many faces still staring down at her with revulsion on their features.

Shacklebolt held up his hands, and the noise died down immediately.

"Wait," she forced herself to speak. "I would like to say something." She had never felt so small in her life, so insignificant and despised. It had never mattered before, while she was under the influence of her father or Voldemort himself. She had been controlled so rigidly for so long that her true self had been buried, and now she was no longer a mindless soldier for the Dark regime… who was she? What person was left, bound to this chair and waiting her fate?

"Well?" The deep voice demanded.

"I… I know what I must be, to all of you. I'm aware, mostly, of the things I have done, the things many of you have seen with your own eyes." She looked around the jury, shivering as not one expression changed as they stared down at her. "Listening to those atrocities…" she let out her breath. "I don't know how to explain all of this. A part of me, a huge part of me, feels as though whatever sentence you place on my head is deserved." The last sentence was the loudest and clearest she had spoken in days, and her throat was already feeling the strain after the silence she had held in Azkaban.

The court was still and quiet as they waited to hear what else she had to say, but she felt as though she was drowning, unable to find anything resembling sense.

"My father…" she tried to begin, but the words stuck once more. "The night of the final battle…" she tried again, once more stumbling to a stop. She tried to lift her hands to her face, feeling demented as voices and images that did not belong together sprung through her mind at a rapid pace. The chains cut into her skin, and she felt wet tear tracks down her face.

Kingsley Shacklebolt's expression had altered, ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, but he was now looking at her with his head tilted a fraction to his left, a crease between his eyebrows. He was curious for the first time, no longer wanting to throw her back to Azkaban instantly.

"Please, begin again." He said, his tone still authoritative but with a touch less hatred colouring it. She nodded once in acknowledgement, and tried to focus on her breathing. Her eyes found the cold grey floor, and it became suddenly slightly easier to get air into her aching lungs. After a few long moments of silence, she began again.

"From a young age, my father tortured me using the Cruciatus Curse and other forms of Dark magic that I do not know the name of." She thought for a second before continuing, debating how best to explain what had happened to her. "From the time I was of age, until the final battle at Hogwarts, I was under this influence."

"You are telling us you were under the Imperious Curse?" Shacklebolt's voice demanded instantly. She still didn't look up.

"No," she said quietly. "No, it wasn't the Imperious Curse. It was something else. Minerva will be able to explain it better than me; it was she who discovered it."

"Minerva McGonagall?"

"Yes," she managed to look up at him briefly, and while his face was far from kind, the hatred had abated almost completely now, replaced with something she didn't recognise.

"Do you have more to say before we call her in?"

She thought wildly for a second, then nodded.

"Tell us how Minerva McGonagall came to discover this… revelation," Weasley spoke, his tone dripping with scepticism.

"When I Disapparated with her, things in my mind began to change," she murmured, screwing her eyes shut in an effort to straighten the memories in her fragile mind. "She reminded me of who I was when I was at Hogwarts. I was not a bad person. I worked hard, and Minerva and I became… close," she froze for a moment, wondering how clear she could make their relationship without implicating Minerva. "Eventually, I allowed her to try and break through the barriers of Dark magic and I…" she floundered here, wondering what exactly had happened then. "I could see most of what she saw as she searched my mind, but she will be able to give more detail on this. What I remember is hazy…" she trailed off.

"Could you describe then, in your own words, what you think happened?" Shacklebolt's voice was hushed, but reverberated still through the bewildered crowd. It seemed nobody had expected to see Bellatrix Lestrange in this state; with tears still coursing down her face, her voice shaking and her body almost folding in on itself.

"She saw many things. She saw my father, torturing me. She saw him standing over me while I was unconscious, indoctrinating me to believe those who are Muggle-born are scum with powerful Dark magic through my teenage years. She saw my marriage to Rodolphus, which was not my choice." The faces above her still looked sceptical; they had seen too much of her as pure evil for her to convince them otherwise. "I knew there was a wall in my mind that was blocking me from understanding my own trauma, and I requested that she use Legilimency on me. I gave her my wand, and I was defenceless while she did so."

A few faces changed at this news, looking shocked at this revelation.

"If all this is true, why did you take Minerva McGonagall against her will from the final battle?" Weasley demanded.

Her head snapped up to look at him, imploring him to understand. "Those were my orders. I was still acting under the influence of the Dark Lord - it was not against my will to do so after so many years of indoctrination, you have to understand," she was begging now, and she despised herself more as she heard it. "I had been ordered to murder her, specifically. I don't know why her, but I know I felt nothing towards the plan - that is, until I saw her again. I tried to fulfil my duty but for the first time, something inside me was fighting against the Dark magic in my mind, or my soul," she frowned, still confused with precisely _what_ had happened to her. She knew her defence was weak, but she was lacking the ability to explain herself sufficiently. _I need her,_ she thought desperately. _I need Minerva._

Just as the desperate need for her woman overtook her weakened body, a door behind her slammed open. She jumped so hard that the chains cut into her thin arms once more, and she winced, while trying to crane her neck she around to see the cause of the commotion. The jury were all watching with stunned faces at the disturbance, while the crowd in the galleries were now once more immersed in discussion at the sight of -

"Minerva," she breathed, as she felt a hand close on her shoulder, she could smell the floral scent she had almost forgotten after just a few days breathing in the dank smell of Azkaban. She looked up into her face and felt as though it burned her eyes; the woman was _glowing_ , radiating power, the light from the ceiling illuminating her silhouette so that she could barely make out her facial features. She could see her emerald eyes, though, and they were ablaze with fiery determination.

The battle was not yet over for Minerva McGonagall.


	10. Chapter 10

With a brisk whipping motion of her wand, Minerva had conjured herself a hard backed chair to appear less than an inch from Bellatrix's chained right arm. She lowered herself onto it with so much grace that it made Bellatrix ache for her. A few days apart had felt longer than all the decades without each other - although, she knew, this was because those decades were not her own either. Much like her name, her marriage, her entire timeline from the age of 17 to now did not belong to her. They belonged to the deceased Lord Voldemort.

"The court recognises Minerva McGonagall, newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." rang Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice through the room. The crowd, who had been whispering incessantly until he spoke, now fell silent, every set of eyes focused on the pair of witches in the centre of the room. Many mouths fell open in shock when Minerva's hand reached to hold Bellatrix's, but was forced to flinch backwards when the chains attaching her to the chair clinked threateningly.

"Professor, could you please explain to the court your reasons for defending the accused?" He requested, his tone now respectful; he was speaking to a fellow soldier now, to someone whom he had an enormous amount of admiration. She nodded once in response, and began.

"The beginnings of my reasoning are rooted in Bellatrix's time at Hogwarts. This story spans over many decades, and will certainly shock many of you, but I request that you listen to it in full before making your decisions." Her voice was strong, carrying through the courtroom as effectively as Shacklebolt's had done. He nodded, turning to Weasley and indicating that he should make notes on her statement if needed. As one, they turned back to Minerva and waited patiently for her to tell them her story.

"Thank you. You may be aware that I had started teaching just a few short years before Bella Black arrived at school. I loved my job. I loved my students, in my own way - which is to say, I loved them enough to push them to learn as much as they were capable of. I wanted the best out of each and every one of them, no matter their House placement." She took a deep breath and spoke directly now to the Minister.

"Bella arrived, and was sorted into Slytherin. For a while, she flew under my radar, but as she flourished in class, I began to notice her. She was a quiet child, a sweet girl with a good temperament who clearly had little communication with any of her peers. By the time she was in fourth year, we had developed a close bond as teacher and pupil. She became a protege, of sorts. I nourished her as much as I was capable, considering the mistreatment I was aware she received at home." She paused here, glancing sideways at Bellatrix.

"I'm going to have to tell them everything to clear your name, my love." She murmured. Bellatrix nodded once in understanding, her permission to continue clear.

"When she was an adult and had almost completed her studies, Bella and I had developed feelings beyond pupil and professor." A collective gasp wrought the air; those in the gallery were looking at one another in shock at the revelation, but not one person spoke. Minerva, to her credit, did not bow her head or give the slightest indication that she was ashamed, despite that it could potentially discredit her as an educator.

"We fell in love. We had planned many things for after Bella had graduated, but it seemed…" her voice shook slightly at the memory, "the plans of other people would come to fruition instead. Bella married Rodolphus after informing me I would regret attempting to keep her away from Dark magic." People shook their heads in anger in the galleries, though Minerva was unsure if this was due to their inappropriate relationship or to Bellatrix's threat.

"However, as I discovered on the night of the final battle, this was not due to any fault of her own. Bella Black had been having her own choices, her very identity, removed from her from a young age. She asked me to use Legilimency to help her understand why she felt as though she were two identities, a feeling that had crept up on her after she had Disapparated with me from the battle. She took me to the one place no one would ever have expected, as not a soul alive knew of our previous relationship. My home." Glancing to her left, Minerva saw Bellatrix was listening to her so intently it was as though she hadn't a clue what was coming next, gazing at her with such intensity the Professor's train of thought was almost derailed. She allowed her a small smile before continuing.

"She might have killed me, I do not know. My instinct was to keep her talking, to remind her of the love we had once shared. Because we truly were in love once; we were passion personified. We could barely comprehend the thought of being apart. Since she left me, all those years ago, I…" her breath caught in her throat for a moment. "I have never known love like it." There was a silence while the jury digested this, then Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke once more.

"Please continue, Minerva," he requested again. "Tell us what happened when you used Legilimency on Ms Lestrange."

"By this point, she had already begun to change, to remind me more of Bella Black, not the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange. She told me she could feel the disparity between the two, and asked me to use the spell to search her mind for a reason because she was confused. I complied. Upon searching her memories, I discovered quite how terrible her abuse had been from a young age, more so than I ever would have imagined." Determined not to cry or appear weak in her defence of her love, Minerva steeled herself. She described in as much detail as necessary what had happened to Bellatrix without pause. From her childhood torture, her indoctrination, her forced marriage and wedding night… the Longbottom house.

"You must understand. This is a woman who was indoctrinated by a form of Dark magic as yet unexplored. She was no more than a mindless soldier, emotionless and cold, her only goals to create Lord Voldemort's terrible visions for the Wizarding World."

By the time she was finished, the atmosphere had shifted almost imperceptibly in the court.

"I think I speak for everyone in this court room when I say that I did not expect this to be your testimony, Minerva." Kingsley spoke slowly and to her alone, still looking stunned.

"I understand, Minister," she replied carefully. "I will however happily provide my own memories of the occasion for evidence. I will do whatever it takes to clear this woman, not because of my own feelings towards her, but because it is what is right."

The Minister nodded at her.

"Do you have anything else to supply as evidence, Professor?" He had reverted back to his more official manner.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Something that happened when I returned to the battle must be taken into consideration."

He waved a hand at her to continue, and she explained in full how she had been in battle with Voldemort himself before Potter had taken over and eventually killed him. She then detailed how she knew of the second Prophecy, and its contents. Once more, when she had finished, the court was stunned into silence.

Minerva McGonagall felt exhausted now. Reliving her worst traumas for an audience had been mentally draining, and the days after the battle had been even more so. She had felt torn in all directions; her beloved school lay in ruins, she had lost many people she knew and cared for, she saw parents and children alike grieving for their dead. Where even to begin? The answer was, as it always had been, with Bellatrix. And so she had immediately arrived at the Ministry and demanded to be seen, to be heard, mostly to no avail until finally a trial date had been agreed. For three days, there had been nothing to do but wait.

"Your evidence does change things, Professor McGonagall. We will need some time to deliberate, yet time is something we do not have in abundance right now. The jury will take a leave of absence for the next hour to discuss. If we cannot reach a conclusion in this time, Ms Lestrange will be taken back to Azkaban and be tried again at a later date."

He nodded to Weasley and together they led the rest of the Wizengamot and International Confederation of Wizards out of the court room. Two wizards with their faces covered by identity glamours arrived to remove the prisoner from the court, releasing the chains. Before they could properly bind her arms, she had thrown herself at Minerva in a fierce embrace that almost lifted the older woman off her feet, but it didn't stop her from responding enthusiastically. For a few moments, the custody wizards seemed to be too stunned to do anything, but they quickly recovered to drag Bellatrix away from Minerva. Taking an arm each, they pulled her roughly backwards and began to walk her towards the back of the court, Minerva half a step behind. She didn't request to be allowed access to the small, derelict room that Bellatrix would spend her hour waiting, she simply stepped inside. They would wait together, there was no other option.

The custody wizards left to wait outside the door, having ensured Minerva had already relinquished her wand before entering the court. The second they were left alone, the two witches were once more tangled in an embrace. They held onto each other as though they were drowning and would sink without the other. Minerva was the first to lean back, clutching at Bellatrix's face with both hands.

"Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

Bellatrix didn't respond, she simply leaned forwards and kissed her fiercely. Their arms wrapped around each other as their lips moved together, becoming desperate. Their minds were both spinning with terrified thoughts of once more being separated, with jubilation at being reunited, with love and heartbreak all at once.

"Bella," Minerva gasped eventually, pulling away. "I need to know if you're hurt," she demanded.

But Bellatrix's fingers were inside her robes, finding bare skin to caress gently at first, then nails were scraping down her spine, and Minerva was shuddering, her eyes were closing with pleasure at the touch of the woman she loved. She responded before she could stop herself, kissing Bellatrix once more, lips moving to the younger woman's neck, licking and nipping at the expanse of skin. Minerva's back hit the nearest wall with a thud, one leg was lifted to allow Bellatrix access and then -

"Bella!" She hissed as fingers entered her swiftly, surprised at her own arousal. She couldn't resist grinding her hips down as Bellatrix's skilful hands brought her pleasure once more, her mouth at Minerva's neck.

With a sound like a sob, Minerva reached her orgasm. Her knees buckled, and Bellatrix helped her sink slowly to the floor, settling herself astride her saviour's legs. She pressed a kiss to her forehead while Minerva's body relaxed, the tension that had been emanating from her for so long loosening slightly.

"For as long as I have you in my corner, Minerva, I'm as well as I could ever be."

The Headmistress smiled in relief at her words. She did seem to be physically in decent health, but Minerva knew without doubt that her mental state would require much care over the coming years as Bellatrix recognised her own trauma. They stayed close for a while, neither feeling the need to talk. They had many questions that they wanted to ask, but right here and now was not the time to do so. Time was not a luxury they could spare right now, and neither wanted what could be their last moments together to be marred in any way. Their eyes met, Minerva's eyes searching for any remnants of the soldier that had been destined to murder her. Finding nothing but the love of Bella Black, she leaned forwards to capture her lips in a blazing kiss. This time, her hands were the ones roaming beyond robes for flesh, finding her burning with passion. After so many years, Bellatrix had not known what it felt like to be loved by another. She had vague memories of intercourse, always as though watching from outside her own body, but not since Minerva had she been loved. She bit her lip, trembling, as Minerva stroked her incessantly, determined to bring her pleasure, succeeding when she palmed her breast through her thin robes. Bellatrix came down from her high, resting her forehead on Minerva's.

A moment later, the noise of shuffling feet and scraping of chairs brought them back to reality and they stood, straightening their clothes. Neither looked away from the other. They might have been attempting to commit every inch of the face of their beloved to memory. Whether because of the disastrous events they had faced, both together and apart, or because their love had always seemed doomed from the very beginning, it seemed neither witch had any faith that they would leave this court room together and walk happily into the sunset.

Both of their faces whipped towards the door as it opened, and the two custody wizards stepped inside once more.

It was time for their fate to be decided.


	11. The Verdict

Manhandled back into the chained chair, Bellatrix felt an odd sense of calm fall over her. Minerva was beside her the entire way, now seated once more in the seat she had conjured earlier. She felt she knew already what the verdict would be, she could feel it in her very bones, but somehow the outcome would hurt for one reason only. _Minerva_. Bellatrix was resigned to returning to Azkaban. She felt it was what she deserved; she simply despised herself for what she had been forced to become.

_Maybe if I'd fought harder… neither of my sisters turned into the villain I did…_

Her thoughts had continued in this vein throughout the entirety of the days she had spent waiting, imprisoned, for this hearing. The weight of her past crimes crushed her, and she felt as though very little oxygen was entering her body.

The court were ready and waiting only for the Minister of Magic to return, but they did not interact with each other. Instead, they simply stared at Bellatrix and Minerva in turn. After a few moments, the tall and impressive man that was the interim Minister returned, prepared to change their lives inevitably once more. Kingsley Shacklebolt took his seat.

Quickly, Bellatrix turned to look at her love. Minerva was paler than she had ever been; she looked as though every drop of blood had fled her body in fear of the verdict. Her jaw was set in a hard line of determination, but her hands were shaking slightly as she reached towards Bellatrix, momentarily forgetting they could not touch. Once more, the chains clinked threateningly at her, ready to punish them both for contact. She resigned herself instead to facing her captive.

"Whatever happens Minerva… I love you."

Minerva's mouth fell open slightly at the words she hadn't heard for so many years, but her response was cut short by Kingsley's voice penetrating the otherwise silent court.

"We have reached a decision." He paused for a moment to consider his words. "I'm afraid that in this case, it is not as simple as sentencing you, Bellatrix. Your case is a complex one that is quite unlike anything we have experienced in this court. We have seen many people who claimed to have been under the influence of a powerful Imperious Curse, many of whom were lying. Plenty more, however, were no more a Death Eater than myself." He took a breath as a low murmur went around the gallery; the watching crowd were clearly on tenterhooks, but many did not seem to know which verdict to root for anymore.

"I must emphasise that I do believe your defence. I do see that you have been a victim of Lord Voldemort, as much as those who have lost everything at his hands. You were not a villain in this war by your own choice, but rather a villain was created and you were used as its vessel."

Bellatrix felt Minerva tense next to her, and she knew why. It felt as though Shacklebolt was simply trying to lessen the pain of the inevitable final blow.

"With that being said," Bellatrix finally looked at him in the eyes. She wanted him to tell her the fate they had decided for her straight to her face. "There are a number of atrocities that have been committed, and they demand justice to be served. Our decision is, perhaps, as abnormal as the case itself. We have unanimously arrived at the conclusion that we as a jury should not be the people to sentence you."

A collective gasp rose through the room as the gallery looked from the pair of witches in the centre of the room to the jury and back again. Minerva and Bellatrix, equally incredulous, glanced at each other then back to the Minister.

"Kingsley," Minerva managed, her state of shock evident. She was clearly not yet used to addressing her comrade as Minister. "What on earth does this mean?"

"It means that, in consideration of all the evidence supplied to us - including your own memories, Minerva - that we feel we are not equipped to sentence Bellatrix Lestrange for her… crimes. Crimes that the woman in front of us here today committed in body only, not in mind. In understanding of this, we have decided to suggest instead that she meets with those most damaged by the actions for a more therapeutic response than incarceration." He looked back to Bellatrix, seeming to realise he had addressed her future to Minerva instead of her.

"I hope you understand, Bellatrix, that we must ask that you remain at one fixed address for the duration of these sessions, the exact number of which is still to be determined. We have spoken to the first people who we feel were impacted upon by past actions, and they have agreed the first meeting will occur soon. More details will be given to you tomorrow."

The crowd around them did not seem to know how to respond to this news. There were no cheers, no sighs of relief at her escaping Azkaban. She noticed, however, that there were no angry cries of outrage either, and decided that it was certainly the best she could hope for in such circumstances.

"We ask that you return to the fixed address, to be decided privately with me after this hearing is complete, as soon as possible." Bellatrix stated her understanding of this, and with that… it was over. She was free.

The chains on the chair broke away from her arms as soon as Kingsley confirmed, once more, that she would no longer be held in custody here, nor in Azkaban. The very first thing she did was fling herself unceremoniously at Minerva, almost toppling the older witch over in her haste. Tears were pouring down both of their faces at the revelation, neither could quite believe what had just happened.

"I love you, too." Minerva finally was able to respond, and not caring what any of the onlookers thought, their lips met in a brief, fierce kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

One Year Later

Minerva sat at her desk, head in hands. She was exhausted; this had been one of her worst weeks since the trial.

“Minerva, don’t forget you have one more meeting before you can head home for the holidays.” A calm, knowing voice came from behind her, as always, drawing a small smile onto her face.

“I haven’t forgotten, Albus. Our dear Mr Potter will be here in about 5 minutes, I think. Unless he’s late again, which is always a possibility. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve suggested I transfigure him into a pocket watch.” They both chuckled lightly, Minerva now facing the portrait of her old friend.

“You know what he’s going to request, I’m sure?” Albus intoned, his face dropping into a more serious expression once his laughter subsided.

“Yes, I know what he’s going to request. It’s taken a lot of fighting on his part to change the wards on the portrait creations to allow it to happen, I believe my permission is the last hurdle for him on this particular endeavour.” She replied, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “I know exactly what his argument will be in this case.”

“Do you disagree with Harry, Minerva?” Albus asked, seemingly amused by the prospect.

“No, not as such. I’m just not sure I want to work in my office everyday with Severus Snape rolling his eyes and making his sarcastic comments at every decision I make.”

Albus Dumbledore laughed heartily at the prospect. “Ah, my dear Minerva. I do believe we’ll have such a lot of fun,” he chortled, his eyes twinkling over his half moon spectacles.

A knock at the door drew her away from her conversation with her predecessor and friend, and she turned away to prepare herself for the inevitable. She straightened her glasses and smoothed her hair back away from her face before answering.

“Enter.”

Harry Potter opened the door hastily, just as endearingly unsure of himself as ever before. She noticed he looked tired as she stood to greet him.

“Hello, Mr. Potter,” she smiled as he walked towards her desk. She hadn’t consciously decided to walk around it to draw him into a brief hug, but she was pleased to note that he reciprocated with a smile breaking out over his face.

“Professor McGonagall, how are you?”

“Very well Potter, thank you. How are you?”

He nodded, then shook his head with a slight smile. She tilted her own head to one side inquisitively at this.

“Will you ever just call me Harry?” He asked softly.

“If you like. I suppose we have reached that level of informality since the war, haven’t we?” She said briskly, making him laugh again. “Now, Harry, what brings you to Hogwarts?”

He opened his mouth to reply but closed it again just as quickly, his eyes finding the portrait behind her for the first time.

“I wondered if he would be here, this time.” Harry murmured, staring. His eyes looked brighter than usual, and his voice shook slightly. She turned towards the portrait of Albus, confused, until she saw his empty chair. She sighed.

“I’m sorry, Harry. He… I think he finds it difficult to face you, sometimes.”

“He’s been in that portrait once when I’ve visited this office. Sometimes I just need to talk to him!” His voice rose in frustration, looking even older and tireder than he had when he’d entered.

“I know, Potter.” She sighed heavily, meeting his gaze as his eyes snapped to hers. “I mean, Harry. Sorry. That might take some getting used to.” His face relaxed slightly at her admission.

“It’s alright, Professor. I appreciate the effort.” He didn’t add “it’s more than some people are doing” but he may as well have; the intensity of the anger directed at the empty portrait behind her spoke for itself.

“We haven’t discussed why he’s not been here when you have visited, Harry, but I do have a theory on his absence. Please, don’t be too hard on him. He loves you, you know,” She said quietly. She was startled when she saw his eyes fill with tears, and reached over the desk to pat his hand awkwardly. Maternal though she was towards the students she had been closest to, particularly this boy, it was simply not in her nature to provide emotional support.

“What’s your theory, Professor?” He asked her, his green eyes still swimming with unshed tears. She passed him a tissue and leaned back in her chair, pondering how best to answer him.

“Well, I can’t be entirely sure, Harry. Albus, even in this form, has a mind that reaches far beyond the capabilities of even the smartest amongst us. With that being said, if I were to capitulate on the topic… I would suggest that his reasoning is for your own wellbeing. Perhaps he wants you to find your feet in a post war world, without his guidance. After all, Harry… we must all remember that the true Albus Dumbledore is no longer with us, however difficult that may be.” Her own eyes shone with tears at the thought. She was truly lucky to work side by side with his image, and there were times she could almost forget that he wasn’t really here anymore. Almost.

Harry made an odd jerky movement that was somewhere between a shrug and a nod, his eyes focusing on one of the silver instruments that she had kept on her desk. It was one of the few things in her office that remained as a tribute to Albus; over the last year, she had slowly and carefully made the space her own while rebuilding the school. Had she not done so, she felt she would not have ever settled into her role as Headmistress.

Harry watched the instrument rotating, and as he did so, he saw a puff of smoke rise from it. Minerva watched curiously as he, seemingly following instinct, reached for his wand and gently tapped the instrument on its head. She let out a gasp as the next puff of smoke grew larger, a circular shape that rested on a four-legged stand. A prophecy.

Neither of them moved their gaze away from the rotating shape as it grew larger again, now with the smoke in the centre making the unmistakable shape of a recognisable face -

“Bella,” Minerva gasped.

Harry slowly tapped the instrument with his wand again, and the face changed to his own. The smoke continued to rotate between them for a few seconds before dissipating slowly, clearing the air. A lengthy silence fell between them as they watched the instrument, wondering if anything else would happen.

“Do you remember,” Harry spoke first, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “The night Umbridge caught us in a DA meeting, and she brought me and Marietta up here?”

Minerva nodded; how could she forget? She had loathed that woman.

“I remember… So this…?” She reached a slightly shaking finger to point at the instrument, and Harry nodded.

“He used this. A snake came out of it, and he said something about ‘in essence divided’ to it. I never remembered to ask what he meant, but I think I know now. He knew a part of Voldemort resided in me; that’s why I had the vision of Nagini attacking Mr Weasley through the snake’s eyes. This showed him.”

He frowned in confusion, still looking at the empty space where the smoke had been.

She had explained to Harry about the second prophecy that had included her Bella soon after the trial. Once things were calmer than the initial frantic aftermath of the war, she had found herself torn in every direction. Bella’s permanent address was her home, at her insistence. She had moved in the day her verdict had been finalised, and it had been there that the victims of Bellatrix Lestrange had visited to try and put their pain to rest. It had been one of the hardest periods of her life to date.

She had also found herself in charge of quickly rebuilding as much of Hogwarts castle as possible before September, so that the much-smaller number of students than usual could return to complete their Magical education.

At the same time, she provided an in depth interview with a trusted journalist regarding her support of Bella, who was still seen by the entire wizarding world as a murdering lunatic. Said ‘lunatic’ had trauma-induced nightmares almost every night, waking them up screaming frantically, which soon turned into heart-wrenching sobs. Yes, it had been one of the most demanding and challenging years of Minerva’s life in many ways.

“Do you know how it works?” He asked abruptly, drawing her back to the present.

“No, I’m afraid not, Harry.” She frowned. “Feel free to borrow it. It seems to have responded to your presence.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course.” She nodded. “Would you like a cup of tea?” He responded with an affirmative, and she quickly produced a tea tray filled with the necessities. He burst out laughing when he spotted the Ginger Newts.

“Sorry,” he said to her bemused look, “it just always reminds me of the time I thought you were about to dock Gryffindor 100 points or put me in a years worth of detentions, and instead you offered me a biscuit.” He laughed again, his face creasing with mirth, and suddenly he looked no older than fifteen again. She couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Umbridge again?”

He nodded, rolling his eyes drastically.

They drank their tea discussing light-hearted topics; Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley in a relationship being the first.

“And I thought my own relationship would be the hottest gossip,” she intoned sarcastically, making him laugh.

“I think they were grateful for yours and Bella’s relationship, to be honest. Certainly took some of the pressure off.”

“Happy to be of service. What about you, Harry?”

“Me?” He said innocently, but the light blush to his face said otherwise.

“How did Mr Weasley take to the knowledge you and his sister were back together?” She smirked.

“You don’t miss a trick, do you Professor?” He laughed, shaking his head. “He took it well enough. Hermione really brings out the best in him, to be honest.” 

“It’s nice, very nice, to see my Golden Trio happy,” she told him, taking a sip of tea.

His face broke into the widest smile she had seen on his face in years, and her heart warmed at the sight.

“How … how is Bella?”

She heard the effort it took to ask, even after a year had passed since she had requested that those who remained present in their lives refer to her as Bella.

“Coping as well as to be expected. The therapeutic verdict was certainly unexpected, and certainly seems to have brought some semblance of peace to many, but for Bella… well. I fear it has only worsened her mental state, sometimes.” Minerva admitted.

Harry looked conflicted at this information, she noticed. Not wanting to engage on the topic with him, she decided it was time to remind him why he was here.

“So, Harry. What is it I can do for you today? I assume you weren’t here to just have tea and a chat with your old Professor,” she smiled at him indulgently as he looked more than a little abashed.

“Well… no,” he admitted. “It has been nice to catch up though!” He added quickly, his face burning red.

“I quite understand, Harry,” she said softly, pouring them both another tea. “As it happens, I have an inkling as to why you might be here. You’ve been rather vocal about your wishes. I might have been excessively busy with other things for the past year, but even I’ve been aware of what you’ve been up to.”

He nodded slowly, sipping his tea. “Is there a point in me trying to convince you?”

She regarded him carefully for a few moments, then nodded once. “Yes, Harry. I would say I could be persuaded to hear your side of the argument.”

He visibly brightened, and set down his cup and saucer.

“You know better than most how Severus Snape hated my father, and how he harboured that resentment towards me while I was in school,” he began, clearly having rehearsed his argument many times. She smiled internally at the thought of him practicing with Ginny Weasley, and gestured for him to continue. “Well, I think despite all of his mistakes, he deserves to be remembered as a Headmaster of Hogwarts. He may not have been seen as a hero, but he was. He saved us all through his actions as a double agent, and he kept the school as safe from harm as he could-” he broke off suddenly, staring at the cabinet to his right. 

“What is it?”

“The Pensieve… it’s gone,” he muttered.

“I have it in my home. We… we have need of it. Dumbledore bequeathed it to me in his will,” she added, almost defiantly. He raised his hands in understanding and surrender briefly.

“It’s not that. I… I saw his memories once, when I should have been studying Occlumency, he had to leave for some reason, and I…” He closed his mouth, looking guilty. “I saw my dad, bullying him. I saw my mum defend him and he called her a Mudblood. Then during the battle, I saw his own memories, and how he begged for forgiveness and she never gave it to him.” It all came spilling from him then, all the things he had never intended to say. All the flaws and fragility of the man he wished to have memorialised forever in the Headteacher’s office of Hogwarts. She let him speak until he had exhausted himself, then extended a hand to pat his arm where it now rested on her desk.

“Alright, Harry. I understand. After the year I spent here with him in charge, I admit, I was loathe to allow this to happen, but I think you are correct. As flawed as he was, he was truly selfless in his war efforts and for that in itself, he deserves to be commemorated.” Harry let out a long breath of relief and started to thank her profusely, but she shook her head and held up a hand to stop him. “No thanks necessary, Potter.” She said briskly, making him smile. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to my time as Headmistress with his snide comments every thirty seconds, but perhaps the odd silencing charm will have to suffice.” Harry snorted at this, and ran his hand through his already messy hair in an act so reminiscent of his father, she felt the need to say gently, “He wasn’t a bad person, you know. Your father.” 

Harry sighed softly. “I know. People are never black and white in such a way. Look at Snape. Look at -” he cut himself off apologetically, but she finished his thought for him.

“Bellatrix, yes. You’re right in saying that Harry. Rarely is anything so simple as entirely good or entirely evil. It seems Albus was right all along to remind us that love was, and remains to be, the force that drives us to be better.” She paused for a second, considering him. “Bellatrix didn’t have the chance to make her own choice, however. Her mind was magically coerced. Life would have been very different had her father not made a deal with Voldemort.”

Harry nodded as she allowed herself a rare moment to grieve the years she had lost, the damage that had been done. He saw the sadness in her eyes and felt solidarity with his ex-teacher at their hardships, their memories of the war would haunt both of them for a lifetime.

“I spoke to Neville, not long ago. He said he’d been to see you both, more than once?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” she said, smiling despite her slightly damp eyes. “Neville has brought us both a great amount of comfort, and I hope we have provided the same to him. I was delighted to be able to offer him a position as Professor Sprout’s apprentice to begin in September,” her smile widened as Harry shook his head in amused disbelief.

“Could you ever have imagined a young Neville as a Professor?” He snorted, unable to help himself. “He’s brilliant, and all, but…” she joined in his laughter. 

“I know. To me, he might always be the boy who so desperately wanted to please his grandmother that he begged me to allow him to take his Transfiguration O.W.L. Or, better yet, the boy who was so deplorably awful on a broomstick that he managed to break a wrist on his very first try,” she smirked fondly, running a hand over her forehead in amusement at the memory. 

“I have him to thank for my years as Gryffindor seeker,” Harry laughed, and she nodded wisely in response before checking her watch. He took this as his cue to leave, and promptly stood. “I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time, Professor,” he started apologetically, but she held up her hands.

“Nonsense, Potter. Visit any time, I insist on that,” she said seriously. She stepped around her desk to once more pull him into a brief hug, wondering when he had grown taller than her. He smiled his goodbyes at her before turning and walking quickly to the office door, barely glancing at the still-vacant portrait that would soon hold Albus Dumbledore once more, no doubt.

“Have the Floo Network link your home to this office, won’t you Harry?”

“Yeah,” he grinned at her, reaching the door only to pause. “Professor?”

She looked at him, concerned at the sudden change in his demeanour. He was steeling himself against his pain; it seemed he was never long without it, and it hurt her to see.

“Tell him… tell him I understand, will you? Tell him that I loved him, too.” He stared for a long moment at the empty portrait of his Headmaster, before making a final swift exit.

*****

Minerva reached the front door to the home she now considered theirs and tapped her wand against it to allow her through the security wards. In the first months following the verdict she had been forced to add many layers of safety to the Highland home, but it did not stop the influx of hate mail. Howlers every morning, envelopes filled with bubotuber pus or stinksap, graffiti’d articles of the interview she had provided to the The Scroll’s youngest reporter and Editor in Chief - none other than Luna Lovegood herself. She had decided to create a new paper after her father had retired due to ill health following the war, noting that the Daily Prophet had rightly fallen into disrepute, and the Wizarding community of Great Britain deserved the truth.

Following interviews with all of the Golden Trio, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and even Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt himself, Minerva had finally agreed to tell their story. They had been met with anger, revulsion and hatred, and plenty of people had demanded her resignation as Headmistress even as she spent the year rebuilding Hogwarts and teaching the small group who had wished to complete their magical education after the war. There were glimmers of hope from the general public, however, which increased tenfold when the war hero Harry Potter had made a lengthy statement which comprised of his admiration of his Head of House and full support in her relationship with Bellatrix Lestrange - who was hence to be referred to as Bella Black once more.

Stepping inside her home, Minerva was more than a little startled when cold air greeted her instead of the warmth she had come to associate with Bella’s cooking and continued spell practice. She could often be found in the kitchen creating new dishes which were often delicious, although sometimes were so disgusting that the couple were forced to have toast for dinner, something that amused Minerva no end. Bella had also been working on her spell casting with great success; her talents had clearly not been too badly damaged whilst confined to the Dark Arts, and as she grew in confidence, so did her skill. Her potioneering, however… After one too many explosions, Minerva was forced to admit that the woman may not have a particular proclivity for the subject. Not only were the consistent explosions a cause of many headaches, it seemed Bella was also very ill-adept at correctly labelling her creations. She had been forced to ban her partner from brewing potions in the kitchen, having no desire to accidentally swallow a Sleeping Draught instead of a berry blend smoothie first thing in the morning.

Expecting, therefore, to find her in the now book-free portion of their shared library space brewing something new and interesting, Minerva headed directly there, shedding her cloak along the way. The room was in darkness, all except for a glowing cauldron which stood to the far end of the room. No figure stood over it, and the fire beneath it had almost burned out. Minerva could see dark smoke rising in waves from the potion within, and knew immediately that something was wrong. Clutching her lit wand tightly in her hand, she moved carefully towards the curious scene, noticing the scent of the smoke as she drew nearer. She noted a hint of Valerian, almost burned beyond recognition, and wondered whether Bella had attempted a Forgetfulness potion despite her insistence that such a thing was more than ill-advised, it was plain lunacy. She had been certain they could work through their own mental warfare together.

She was a foot away from the cauldron now, which was still issuing a thick smoke, blurring everything in her vision the closer she got. This was, perhaps, the reason she had not yet noticed the bundle of black robes on the other side of the large cauldron. It took her three more steps, three of the slowest seconds in Minerva’s life, before she registered the tangle of material at her feet. Two more, hurried now, as the panic rose like bile in her throat. Her knees hit the floor next to the tangle of black curls. Her hands frantically tugged at a body which lay face down on the floor until she could see the slack face of her beloved. Bella Black’s eyes were closed, her lips parted very slightly. She was not breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I must admit that I’ve been put off writing anything HP after J.K once more became the Umbridge of her own life, but I’ve decided to reclaim the story and the characters that I’ve grown up with. With that being said, as a Queer person, I stand by trans and non binary people and will always fight for their right to live freely and happily. Don’t let the words of a twitter-obsessed woman who should know better get you down, you’re loved and valid.


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